


The Last Stage from Sudrow’s Wells.

by steeleye



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon
Genre: Classic Western, Gen, Humour, Time Travel, action adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-27 08:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13876953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: ‘She Wore a Yellow Ribbon’, xover. In a sequel to ‘Big Iron’, Faith and her watcher, Albert Cardwell VC, find themselves on the trail of a vampire Indian and his ‘Spirit Dancer’ followers. Little do they know where the trail will end.





	1. Chapter 1

The Last Stage from Sudrow’s Wells.

By Steeleye.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy) or ‘She Wore a Yellow Ribbon’. Directed by John Ford from a story by James Bellah, screenplay by, Frank Nugent and Laurence Stallings. I write these stories for fun not profit.

Crossover: BtVS with the classic western film, ‘She Wore a Yellow Ribbon’.

Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar; Written in glorious English-English which is different to American-English.

Timeline: Post BtVS Season Three. 

Words: 14 Chapters each of 2500+ words.

Warnings: Watch-out! There’s an Injun behind every bush!

Summary: ‘She Wore a Yellow Ribbon’, xover. In a sequel to ‘Big Iron’, Faith and her watcher, Albert Cardwell VC, find themselves on the trail of a vampire Indian and his ‘Spirit Dancer’ followers. Little do they know where the trail will end.

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**Authors Note;** She Wore A Yellow Ribbon was originally set in the 1870’s not long after the Battle of the Little Big Horn. I’ve shifted the time period to the 1890’s so Faith and Albert can join in the fun.

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_Sometimes I look up high and then I think there might  
just be a better life.  
Away from all we know, that's where I wanna go,  
out on the wild side  
and I wish I was, o-oo-o-oh, a wild west hero._

The Electric Light Orchestra, ‘Wild West Hero’. Highlight and right click to follow the link...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VwsDU00pqFs

0=0=0=0

**Monument Valley, Arizona, 1896.**

It’d felt like they’d been riding for forever; Faith realised, however, it had only been a couple of days. They rode across an undulating expanse of sand dotted with sage bushes; near by she could see the weirdly shaped mesas that thrust up out of the desert floor like huge castles. Off in the far distance she could make out the shape of snow capped mountains, this was nothing to how she’d expected a desert to look.

It was cold, the previous night; after the camp fire had died it had become mind-numbingly cold. So cold that Faith’d lain shivering under her blankets with her jacket on and extra pairs of socks on her feet. Of course this didn’t seem to bother her companion, Major Albert Cardwell, VC, late of Her Majesty’s Corps of Guides. When Faith’d mentioned how cold it was, Albert (as she called him, never ‘Al’ or ‘Bert’), laughed and told her some funny story about his adventures up on the Northwest Frontier of India. When he’d finished he’d rolled himself in his blankets and quickly fallen asleep while Faith lay there shivering. Faith liked her watcher, she had a good relationship with him, but on nights when she was lying on the hard ground and freezing her tits off, she could quite merrily have murdered him in his sleep.

0=0=0=0

The fight with Buffy had gone badly; at least it had for Faith. She’d found herself staring at the wound in her stomach and the bloody knife in Buffy’s hand. But at least she’d stopped Buffy from using her blood to revive Angel and with any luck the vamp was long dead…or would be. After falling from the roof of her apartment block, Faith was surprised to wake up in a hospital. She’d been even more surprised to discover that it was a hospital in New York in 1894. She’d not taken this discovery at all well and had almost found herself committed to a lunatic asylum. 

Her humour wasn’t improved any when she was eventually picked by the American branch of the Watchers Council; they’d been flabbergasted to find an active slayer in the United States while the current slayer was still alive in Russia. Their astonishment, however, knew no bounds when they also discovered in which year Faith had been born. 

Under the circumstances the American Watchers Council thought it best to let Faith do things her way and assigned her a watcher who was ‘radical’ enough for her not to murder out of hand. This was how she’d ended up with her very own ‘Albert’, not that her Albert was anything like the Batman Albert she’d read about in comic books.

Major Albert Cardwell, VC, was a man of average height, his dark brown hair was going slightly grey around the temples and there were a few strands of silver in his clipped, military, moustache. Faith guessed his age at more forty than thirty. He was tough, knowledgeable and an expert with a bewildering variety of weapons. He was totally cold blooded towards the things they hunted across the ‘Wild West’ and he loved Faith like she was his own daughter. Although he was a man of his times, Albert attempted to understand Faith; she knew that at times she drove him to distraction, but he tried not to be shocked by the things she said or did and her attitudes to people and things.

Turning in her saddle, Faith looked back at Albert who rode his horse a few yards behind hers. Pulling on B’s reins, she waited until Albert had caught up with her before urging her horse back into motion. Sitting slumped in his saddle, Albert read from a small book. Leaning towards her watcher, Faith tried to see what he was reading. From the way the words had been printed on the page, Faith guessed that it was poetry. Her watcher was weird, he spent hours like this reading translations of old eastern poems. It could have been worse, she thought, he might have insisted on singing.

Whatever, Faith sighed, something had been troubling her for sometime and she needed to get it off her chest. Unsure how Albert would take what she wanted to say, Faith had put off saying anything until they were alone. Looking around at the empty desert she guessed that they were about as alone as they were going to get. Taking a deep breath and trying to control her rapidly beating heart, Faith opened her mouth to speak.

“Sex, Albert,” she blurted out.

“Sorry?” Albert looked up from his book and blinked owlishly at her.

“I said,” Faith took another deep breath, it didn’t sound so bad when you actually said it out loud, “sex.”

“Erm,” Albert took off his little round spectacles that he wore for reading and regarded Faith quizzically, “I hope you’re not going to ask me the one about where babies come from, my dear. I was rather under the impression you were quite aware of all the details.”

“Yeah, right,” Faith nodded, “I am, but what I want to know is; how does a girl get some?”

“Get some what?” Albert’s perplexed look got deeper.

“Look,” Faith sighed and tried to explain what she meant, “I’m not a slut or anything, I never used to jump in the sack with the first guy that came down the pike. I used to choose ‘em, use ‘em and lose ‘em, y’know being the slayer isn’t good for the long term relationships. Hey,” Faith smiled and laughed quietly, “ya only gotta look at B…”

“You mean ‘Buffy’ the other uptime slayer?” Albert had put his book away and was giving Faith his undivided attention.

“Yeah,” Faith nodded her head, “walking disaster area y’know?”

Albert raised an eyebrow waiting for Faith to explain herself further.

“See,” Faith paused to pick her words as carefully as she knew how, which wasn’t very, “what I want to know is; how does a girl go to get some sack time with a hot guy ‘round here?”

“Ah!” Albert’s face relaxed as he gave Faith a kindly smile, “As I understand it, my dear, you want to know how a young woman gets to have carnal knowledge of a young man. Am I right?”

“Colonel Knowledge?” it was Faith’s turn to frown, “What the hell's he gotta do with anything?”

“I’m sorry, old thing,” Albert reached over and patted Faith’s arm, “but you don’t, not until you get married. If, that is, you’re the right sort of young woman which I know, deep down, you are.”

“Hey!” Faith stared at her watcher, “That’s not fair! I’ve seen you sneaking off to the local whore house when you thought I wasn’t looking.”

“WHAT!?” Albert coughed and spluttered a little, but tried to explain, “You see, my dear, men have different needs from women. It’s generally accepted by the medical profession that women get no, erm, gratification from the act of, um, ‘love’.”

“WHAT!” Faith nearly fell off her horse in surprise, “If that’s what they think they can’t be doing it right!”

“Well, indeed,” Albert tried not to smile too broadly at Faith’s comment, “I dare say you're right, to be honest, I’m inclined to agree with you, but…”

“But nothin’, Albert,” Faith sounded sad even a little whiny, “look I’ve been here two freaking years now and the only thing I’ve had inside me is my freaking finger!” This comment elicited another bout of coughing and spluttering from the retired officer. “Like,” Faith said matter-of-factly, “what did ya think I was doing while you were screwing around down at the cat house?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” Albert reconsidered, “Of course I do now but I can understand how you must feel and you must believe me…”

“Must I?” Faith said miserably, she knew what was coming.

What was coming was a long lecture on why she couldn’t do something. Albert would be reasonable, even sympathetic, but in the end he’d tell her ‘no’.

“Yes, old thing, I’m afraid you must,” Albert sighed heavily, he felt like he spent all of his time saying ‘no’ to Faith, like she said, it just wasn’t fair. “As I understand it from what you’ve told me; morals up-time are somewhat looser than they are in the here and now. If you did half of what you’ve said was considered quite normal in your time here…well, I’m afraid you’d get quite the wrong sort of reputation.”

The two riders lapsed into a silence that lasted for several long minutes until Albert spoke again.

“I have a small volume of erotic Persian poetry in my saddle bag if you want to borrow it…” he paused before adding helpfully, “…it has illustrations.”

“Thanks,” Faith shrugged miserably, resigning herself to living like a nun for the rest of her life, “but I don’t think it’ll help.”

“Well its there if you need it,” Albert said without actually looking at her.

Maybe, thought Faith, this was the reason the slayer didn’t live very long. It wasn’t the monsters that got to her it was the sexual frustration that eventually wore her down and made her welcome death. Well, she urged B into a slow trot and pulled away from Albert who’d started to read his book again, that wasn’t going to happen to her. Somehow, someday she’d have sex again, even if she had to marry someone to do it.

0=0=0=0

It was about an hour after their little discussion about the ‘facts of life’ here in the nineteenth century and Faith was resigning herself to spending another night out on the cold prairie, when her sharp eyes picked out a smudge of smoke in the distance.

“Smoke,” she called back to Albert.

Taking off his reading glasses and putting away his book, Albert urged his horse forward until he was riding next to Faith.

“Where?” he squinted into the distance not seeing what Faith’s sharp eyes had picked out.

“There,” Faith pointed, “beneath that ridge line.”

Indicating a long ridge of reddish sandstone, Faith waited as Albert pulled his binoculars from the case hanging from his saddle horn; he scanned the area that she’d pointed to. After a few seconds, he lowered his glasses and turned to smile at Faith.

“That’ll be Fort Starke,” Albert laughed quietly at the relieved expression on Faith’s face, “no cold camp tonight, Faith my girl!” Albert urged his horse into a fast trot, “Come-on,” he cried, “warm beds and hot food await!”

As they got closer to the post, Faith could pick out the details of the fort. It was a large log and adobe constructed fort like all the ones she’d seen on the TV. Watching old westerns on cold, wet Saturday afternoons had been the only entertainment option for a young girl from the wrong part of Boston. By the time she was twelve or thirteen, and starting to take an interest in boys, she’d become quite an expert on the old west as it was presented by Hollywood. Oddly this had helped with her first fumbling attempts at getting to know the guys in her class better. Girls who could talk knowledgeably about the wild west were few and far between.

As they rode closer, Faith could see the three big blockhouses atop the walls, one at either corner of the front wall and the third over the gate itself. The blockhouses with their firing slits were all made from heavy, weathered timbers. It did make Faith wonder for a little while, where, in a landscape totally devoid of trees, had they got all the lumber to build them from? Her musings were interrupted when the guard on the gate brought his rifle down from his shoulder and challenged them. Riding up to the soldier who held his rifle across his chest in a not very threatening way, Faith let Albert do all the talking.

“Good afternoon, trooper,” Albert smiled pleasantly at the man, “I’m Major Cardwell,” Faith noticed that Albert didn’t mention that he’d been in a completely different army to the trooper who guarded the gate. “I’ve come to see the post commander, Major Allshard.”

“Sir!” the sentry snapped to attention, “The Major is in the post headquarters building.”

“Thank-you, young man,” Albert gave the trooper a friendly nod, “alright if we go in?”

“Sir!” the trooper stood back to let the two riders pass.

Walking their horses into fort, Faith looked around. It was fairly big fort, probably designed to hold a lot more men than it actually did at the moment. There were long, low adobe barrack blocks and stables built against the outer wall. The rear wall appeared to be made up of the cliff face of the ridge under which the fort nestled. Dismounting and leaving their horses by the blacksmiths forge, Faith and Albert walked across the wet sand of the fort’s parade square towards the post headquarters building.

This was a wooden building, but unlike the others it was two stories high. The ground floor appeared to contain offices and storerooms while the second floor looked like it held quarters for junior officers and visitors. Faith gazed wistfully up at the windows above hoping that there was a free room there with her name on it. Their footsteps rung hollowly as they climbed the steps up to the veranda in front of the troop office. Giving the door a quiet knock, Albert led the way into the office beyond.

“Major Allshard?” Albert asked as he walked into the office.

There were two desks, both covered in papers; the walls were lined with wooden filing cabinets and cupboards. Maps and scraps of paper were pinned all over the walls, it was just what you’d expect the headquarters of a lonely outpost to look like.

“I’m Allshard,” replied a short-ish man in a blue uniform as he turned to face the two strangers, “and you are?”

“Major Cardwell,” Albert strode across the room and held out his hand to Allshard and shook hands with the puzzled officer. “This is my colleague Marshal Lehane,” Albert gestured to Faith.

As normal, Albert failed to mention that he was a retired officer from a completely different army and that Faith was; ‘A’ a girl and ‘B’ not really a Federal Marshal. True, if Major Allshard was to check with Washington DC he would find documents confirming that there was in fact a Marshal F Lehane on the books. But that was about as likely to happen as the good major flying to the moon.

“W-what can I do for you?” Allshard was clearly confused by the appearance of the two strangers.

“Oh!” Albert sounded genuinely surprised, “I take it by your reaction, that no one informed you we were arriving?”

“No,” Allshard shook his head and gestured for Albert to take a seat.

“Oh-dear,” Albert sat down and scratched the back of his head, “How odd.”

Walking over to the pot bellied stove in the corner of the room, Faith took off her gloves and held out her hands to warm them by the heat of the stove; she’d heard Albert’s little act before. First you burst onto the scene as if you’d every right to be where you were. You threw around a few impressive sounding titles, leave out some important pieces of the truth and then express surprise that the locals hadn’t been warned of your arrival. Even in towns with telegraph offices it could take several days to verify a story, especially if you claimed your orders came from somewhere in Washington. Mostly the local authorities went along with whatever you said, it was a lot less trouble that way.

Having regained the feeling in her fingers, Faith unbuttoned her heavy jacket and took it off, it was quite warm in the office. Taking off her hat she shook out her hair and heard a quiet gasp from behind her. Turning, Faith saw the other occupant of the room, a sergeant, staring up at her. Once she’d taken off her bulky sheepskin jacket and released her hair from under her hat it was fairly obvious that Faith was in fact a young woman. Putting her index finger to her lips in the traditional signal for silence, Faith winked at the startled man and walked over to take a seat next to Albert’s.

Major Allshard was saying something about how even without orders he’d do whatever he could to help. His voice slowly faded away to nothing as his eyes came to rest on Faith’s obviously female form. Noticing the direction of the Major’s gaze, Albert turned to Faith and gave her a slightly annoyed look. He usually liked to control knowledge of Faith’s ‘female-ism’; once he’d done it so well that it had been a week before anyone noticed that Faith needed to squat when she had to pee. 

“Oh-yes,” Albert gave the American Major a conspiratorial wink, “as you’ve no doubt noticed, Marshal Lehane is, in fact, a woman.”

“Howdy,” Faith gave the cavalry officer a casual wave.

“Now, down to cases,” Albert continued before Allshard could say anything, “I believe you’re having a spot of bother with an Indian fellow who goes by the name of ‘Walks-by-Night’ and his band of ‘Spirit Dancers’ am I correct?”

0=0=0=0


	2. Chapter 2

2.

“Yes, Walks-by-Night,” Major Allshard pulled his eyes away from Faith and looked directly at Albert. “He arrived on the reservation about six months ago and has been a thorn in out side ever since. He’s been stirring up the local Indians with tales of a holy war against the white-man. He’s told the tribesmen that if they follow him things can be like they were before the white-man came, that he’ll bring back the buffalo.”

“How many of the local tribesmen are following him?” Albert asked.

“Usual story,” Major Allshard sighed, “at first it was just a few hotheads, now it’s almost all of the young men of fighting age. Walks-by-Night seems to have some sort of hold over the warriors; even old chiefs like Pony-that-Walks have fallen under his spell.”

Turning to Faith, Albert raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Got any idea where these Injuns are hold up?” Faith wanted to know, really getting into her part of the western lawman, or in her case law-woman.

“No I’m afraid not,” Major Allshard replied, “about a month ago Walks-by-Night and his lieutenant Red-Shirt led the warriors out of the reservation villages and up into the hills.”

“Didn’t you try to stop them?” Albert wanted to know.

“We didn’t know they were gone until after the event,” Major Allshard shrugged helplessly. “You have to understand Major Cardwell; there’s not been any major trouble with the local tribes for more than twenty years. Yes there’s been a few bucks go out and raise a little hell but they’ve always been caught quickly and either been sent back to the reservation or put in jail.” Allshard turned in his chair and gestured to the map on the wall behind his desk, “I have one under strength troop to police the entire reservation. I’m also responsible for stopping poachers shooting the buffalo in the National Park. This entire situation blew up out of nowhere. I’ve asked for more men but all I get are excuses and demands for action against the few natives left on the reservation.”

“Yes I understand completely,” Albert replied sympathetically, he’d spent most of his military career chasing tribesmen in hostile terrain with not enough soldiers. “Hopefully we’ll be able to help, our orders are to find Walks-by-Night and bring him in one way or another.”

“I hope you have more luck than we have,” Major Allshard tuned back to face Faith and Albert, “this man and his warriors appear to have just vanished into thin air.”

“Are there any places with a lot of caves?” Faith asked.

“The hills are riddled with them, Miss…” Allshard hesitated not sure how he should address Faith, after a moment he made up his mind, “…Marshal, he could be anywhere, I send out patrols of course but we can only cover so much ground.”

“Of course,” Albert replied soothingly, “our arrival should not be taken as a reflection on the work you’re doing here, Major. Now, have they raided anywhere, that might give us a clue as to where they’re hiding?”

“About a dozen small scale raids so far,” Allshard spread his hands helplessly, “it’s like they spring up out of the ground. The raids have been all around the reservation which makes me think they’re still somewhere actually on the reservation. They raid a small ranch mainly for food, horses and weapons. There’s been about half a dozen deaths so far, luckily we think the Indians are short of weapons and ammunition. I’ve had patrols out looking for gunrunners to prevent them getting more.”

Taking off his glasses, Major Allshard rubbed his eyes and looked wearily at his two visitors.

“I really don’t know what you hope to achieve,” he looked from Albert to Faith, “how can two people hope to do any good when we can’t even discover were the enemy is hiding.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Major,” Albert smiled confidently, “Marshal Lehane and I have dealt with these sorts of situations before. Besides, we’re only after Walks-by-Night himself. Once we’ve caught him I think you’ll find all your problems will just fade away in the sun.”

“I hope you’re right,” Allshard sighed, “I’m sending out the troop tomorrow morning to pick up the outposts and evacuate some of the more isolated farms. You’re welcome to join them if you so desire.”

“That’ll be excellent,” Albert nodded.

“Good,” nodded Allshard he glanced over Albert’s shoulder at the sergeant who’d been keeping very quiet and no doubt listening to every word that had been said. “Sergeant Hochbauer will arrange quarters for you.”

0=0=0=0

Walking out of the major’s snug office and on to the veranda, Faith found herself once more in the cold, crisp, desert air. While the Major and Albert exchanged pleasantries a commotion by the gate caught her eye. A stage coach, pulled by six steaming, exhausted horses, was slowly being driven in through the gate by an equally exhausted looking detachment of cavalry.

“That’s Tyree and the Paradise River Patrol,” called a trooper from over by the blacksmith’s forge.

Turning to Albert, Faith silently nodded to the scene, she walked down the steps and headed towards the stage as it came to a stop in front of the headquarters block. A tall older officer walked up to the coach followed by a heavy set senior NCO; they were joined by what Faith took to be the patrol’s leader. The officer opened the door and looked into the stage’s interior, after a moment he waved to another older man in a long white coat who was running towards the scene.

“Report sergeant,” the officer stepped away to allow the man in white to look into the coach.

“Gun-shoot wound, Sir,” replied the sergeant, a hint of the south in his voice, “dead when I found him.”

“Where?” asked the officer crisply.

“Near Red Butte, Sir,” replied the sergeant just as crisply; the officer moved to examine the horses. “Horses are about give in, Sir,” the officer turned to look into the drivers foot well; “Strong box is gone too, Sir,” added the NCO.

As she walked with Major Allshard towards the stage, Faith noticed a young woman come out of a nearby house to see what was going on. An older woman rapidly appeared from the house behind her and pulled the younger woman back inside, Faith quickly dismissed them from her mind.

“Cheadle?” Major Allshard asked after exchanging perfunctory salutes with the taller officer, “What do you make of the wound Doctor?”

Faith moved to where she could see the body, in doing so the sergeant in command of the patrol noticed her and did a double take when he realised she was a woman.

“I’ll need an hour Major,” replied the man in white who was obviously the post’s doctor, he waved over a couple of troopers who were standing near, “fetch him to the hospital.”

“Why?” Faith wanted to know, “Looks like he’s been shot to me.”

Everyone looked at Faith, the tall officer did a double take as did the big NCO. The tall officer looked at Major Allshard quizzically.

“Major Cardwell and Marshal Lehane,” announced Allshard with an off hand gesture at his two guests.

“Who? What?” Demanded the tall officer.

“They’re here to help find Walks-by-Night,” Allshard explained quickly.

“They’re what?” The tall officer looked at Faith, “But she’s…”

At this point Sergeant Tyree distracted everyone from looking at Faith by handing Major Allshard a broken arrow.

“It’s not Kiowa,” Allshard turned the arrow over in his hands as he examined the blood red flight feathers.

“No,” the tall officer shook his head, “nor is it Comanche or Arapaho…I’ve not seen anything like it.”

”I have,” Albert stepped forward and nodded at the tall officer, “Major Cardwell, at your service, Captain…?”

“Sorry,” Allshard turned to look at Cardwell, “Major Cardwell this is my second in command, Captain Brittles.” Brittles and Albert shook hands, “What can you tell me about this,” Allshard waved the arrow under Albert’s nose.

“I’ve seen this sort of thing before,” explained Albert.

“Where?” Brittles wanted to know.

“Oh,” sighed Albert, “India, Africa, and South America. Not always arrows you understand but similar,” he pointed to some markings on the shaft of the arrow. “See this,” the two American officers studied the markings under Albert’s pointing finger. “It’s the symbol of a cult that stirs up trouble in the uncivilised tribes on the borders of civilisation.”

“That’s ridiculous,” observed Brittles, “are you suggesting this is some sort of worldwide conspiracy?”

“I agree entirely,” Albert replied calmly, “it does sound preposterous, but the evidence says otherwise.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Allshard wanted to know.

“I wasn’t sure earlier,” Albert looked from one officer to the other, “now I am.”

“Alert the post,” Allshard ordered the big sergeant.

“Yes Sur!” replied the big man in a strong Irish accent.

“Get some rest Tyree,” Brittles told the patrol leader, the man saluted and went off to check on his men and horses.

0=0=0=0

The rooms that Faith and Albert were eventually shown to were on the second floor of the headquarters block. Looking around the bare dusty room, Faith sighed before admitting to herself she’d slept in worse places. The room had a bed, desk, a couple of chairs and a closet, plus a potbellied stove like the one in the Major’s office. There was a smaller room off the larger that appeared to be a bathroom, it held a commode and a washstand but no bath.

A knock on the door proved to be a couple of troopers with buckets of steaming water.

“Sergeant Hochbauer thought you’d want to wash-up, Ma’am,” said the older of the two men.

Standing back to let the men in, Faith watched as they delivered the water, neither man could keep his eyes off her. No doubt a full and overheated description of what had happened when they’d delivered the water would be common knowledge around the fort by night fall. Watching as the men left, Faith closed and bolted the door firmly before shutting the threadbare curtains.

Walking wearily across the room, Faith took off her jacket and hung it up on a peg by the door to her bathroom. Unbuckling her gun belt she threw it on the bed before slumping down on it herself. She groaned with despair, the mattress was lumpy and hard and for a moment she actually missed all the ratty motels she’d slept in over her short life.

Pulling her Remington .44 revolver from its holster, she examined the pistol blowing a few grains of sand from around the cylinder. Deciding she could wait until later to clean the weapon, Faith started to heave off her boots. After her usual struggle to get her footwear off, she started to divest herself of her travel stained clothes. Quickly getting down to her underwear Faith found herself shivering.

“Crap!” she muttered as she looked at the unlit stove in the corner of the room, she’d forgotten to light it when she’d come in.

Quickly taking matches from her waistcoat she went over to the stove. By the time she’d managed to light it her teeth were chattering and her hands were going numb. Sitting on the edge of her hard little bed, huddled up in a scratchy wool blanket, Faith felt like crying; but she didn’t, it wouldn’t do any good even if she did. She cursed herself for still taking things for granted; like expecting there to be central heating and that bathrooms would have showers or even proper toilets.

Miserably she looked down at the clothes she’d just taken off, they smelt bad and they were dirty and damp, but she’d still have to wear them if they left the fort tomorrow. Sighing she got off her bed and hung her clothes up near the stove so they’d at least be dry for tomorrow. Then she took out her clean clothes from her saddle bags and hung them up to warm by the fire too. As she did so her eyes fell on the buckets of hot water that still steamed in the cold air. Resignedly, Faith heaved the buckets into the bathroom and poured some into the big basin on the wash stand.

Stripping off her underwear, Faith did her best to clean herself up with soap and flannel. Several bowls of by now tepid water later, she felt almost human again. She’d love to have a shower or be able to lie in a tub, but at least she didn’t stink anymore. Dressing in her cleanest set of underwear, trousers and shirt, Faith sat on her bed and started to brush her hair dry. She’d often thought of having it cut shorter but just couldn’t bring herself to actually do it.

Looking at herself in the mirror on the wall by her bed, she saw her face look back at her, she smiled at herself, she was still ‘hot’, but what was the point of being ‘hot’ when she daren’t get a guy into the sack for fear of getting pregnant? Just as these black thoughts where going through her mind a knock sounded from the direction of the door.

“Are you descent, Faith?” it was Albert.

“Yeah,” Faith called as she made her way to the door, “hold on.”

Pulling the bolt, Faith opened the door and stood back to let Albert in. The Englishman walked into her room and looked around.

“Looks a bit like a Chinese laundry in here,” Albert smiled as he gestured to all the clothes hanging around the stove.

“Whatever,” Faith shrugged, she was still feeling a little down, “come in an’ close the door will ya?”

“Sorry,” Albert closed the door behind him and went to stand by the window; he watched as Faith sat down on her bed and continued to brush her hair, “so, what do you think?”

“The place is a dump,” Faith brushed her hair more vigorously.

“No I meant about Walks-by-Night,” Albert could tell Faith was feeling a little miserable, there was nothing to be done about that until she cheered up of her own accord. “Vampire don’t-cha-think?”

“Yeah, sure, vamp,” if anything Faith brushed her hair harder.

“Steady on old thing,” Albert said quietly, “you don’t want to pull your hair out.

Faith stopped brushing and looked up at Albert, it wasn’t his fault so it was pointless yelling at him.

“Sorry,” the word came reluctantly to Faith’s lips, “it’s just sometimes…” she paused for a long moment, “...y’know?”

“I think I do,” Albert smiled down at his charge in a fatherly way, he smiled trying to lighten her mood a little, “what will you do tonight?”

“I saw a saloon, I thought I’d have a beer,” Faith put down her brush and smiled up at Albert, “see, all better now. What about y’self?”

“Got an invitation to dine with Major Allshard and his wife,” Albert smoothed down his moustache, “you were invited but I refused on your behalf.”

“Thanks,” Faith replied relieved.

“Don’t get drunk or cause any fights,” Albert warned half jokingly, “we’ll be heading out early tomorrow morning with Captain Brittles and his patrol.”

“Don’t worry,” Faith grinned, “I’ll be good.”

“Mind you are my girl,” Albert admonished; he turned towards the door, he stopped one hand on the door handle. “Look Faith,” he turned once again to look at Faith, “I know this is all difficult for you; when we’ve finished here what say we catch the train to California, have a bit of a holiday, eh?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” if it was possible for Faith to sound less enthusiastic, Albert hadn’t heard it yet; Faith paused as visions on Mayor Wilkins swam before her eyes, the guy would be alive in Sunnydale about now. “Anywhere but Sunnydale, okay?”

“Right,” Albert smiled, “that’s settled then.” He opened the door, “I’ll see you in the morning my dear.”

0=0=0=0


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Pushing open the doors of the post saloon, Faith paused for a moment to take in the scene. The saloon consisted of one large room with a bar running along the outside wall and a large fireplace set into the wall furthest from the door. Oil lamps hung from the ceiling illuminating the tables and chairs that crowded the floor. Although it was only a couple of hours to sundown the place was empty and gloomy, it smelt of old beer and stale tobacco. Boot heels clumping hollowly against the bare floorboards, Faith walked up to the bar where the only other person in the room stood reading a newspaper. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she read the dateline at the top of the page; the paper was two weeks out of date.

“Beer,” Faith slapped a coin on the scared wooden counter.

The barkeep came out from behind his paper and inspected Faith. The barman was an old-timer with grey hair that reached down to his shirt collar from under an old cavalry kepi. He wore a white shirt and a black waistcoat; his eyes were grey and stared at her through round, steel rimmed glasses.

“Whores ain’t allowed on post,” he announced before disappearing behind his paper again.

Sighing heavily, Faith walked down the bar until she was standing right in front of the barkeep; why did she have to go through this every time she wanted a glass of beer?

“I ain’t a whore,” Faith said firmly to the newspaper.

“No?” The barkeep came out from behind his paper and looked at Faith once more; he saw a young woman smartly dressed in man’s clothing. “No,” he folded up his newspaper, “I don’t suppose you are,” he paused before saying, “beer was it?”

“Yeah,” Faith pushed the coin across the bar before adding, “please.”

“Coming up,” the barkeep poured the beer and set the foaming glass in front of her. “What I said before,” he took the coin and tossed it into his till, “about the whores…well its true, Whores ain’t allowed on post…just thought I needed to make that clear. Sorry if’n I made it sound…”

“Its okay,” Faith replied after taking a long pull at her beer, “I’m used to it by now. Ya know, once upon a time, I’d have smashed your head into the counter here if you’d suggested I was a hooker.”

“Yep,” agreed the barkeep, he noted the marshal’s badge on Faith’s waistcoat and the big pistol on her hip and raised an eyebrow in surprise, “reckon you would.”

“Can I get a meal here?” Faith asked as she pulled a cheroot from her waistcoat pocket, struck a match and lit it.

“Steak an’ potatoes,” replied the barkeep, “nothing fancy.”

“That’ll do,” Faith walked away from the bar as the barkeep disappeared ‘out back’ for a moment.

Noting the location of the door to what was probably a kitchen; Faith found a table in a corner and sat down so she could see both doors. Tossing her hat on the table, she pulled a pack of cards out of her pocket and started to play solitaire. Looking up she saw the barkeep come back into the room; he stood watching her. Faith looked up from her cards.

“I s’pect ya don’t get too many female Marshal’s in here?” she asked casually.

“Reckon you’re right,” the barkeep came out from behind his bar and stood wiping his hands on his none too clean apron; he stood half way between the bar and Faith’s table. “Like as not you’d be the first.”

“So,” Faith blew smoke across the table, “what goes on here at Fort Starke?”

After glancing around the empty saloon the barkeep sidled over to Faith’s table and sat down; Faith discovered that as a general rule, nothing much happened at Fort Starke. The troops patrolled the reservation and the new National Park. Normally the only excitement was when a patrol had a run in with buffalo poachers or some young bucks got hold of some whiskey and shot up a ranch or something. 

The affair with Walks-by-Night reminded the old barkeep of the days when the cavalry at Starke used to be chasing reservation jumpers every week, or so it seemed to him. Until Walks-by-Night came on the scene the only interesting thing going on was the betting on when Lieutenants Cohill and Pennell would come to blows over the affections of Miss Dandridge, Major Allshard’s wife’s niece.

“That’d be the pretty girl I saw near the headquarters block, right?” Faith ate her meal as the old guy told her about life at the fort.

“That’s the one,” nodded the barkeep, “been no end of trouble between the Lieutenants since she’s been on post,” the barkeep shook his head in sorrow, “she just ain’t army.”

Just then two troopers walked into the bar and leant against the bar, the barkeep made his excuses and left Faith to finish her meal in solitude. As the bar slowly filled up, Faith started to find the attention she was attracting too much for her. Really, she was used to it by now, but it would be nice to be able to have a beer and a meal without being stared at like she was some exotic animal in the zoo.

Finishing her meal and drinking the last dregs of her beer, Faith stood up, put on her hat and after leaving the money for her meal started to head towards the door. She actually thought for once that she might just be able to get out of the place without someone making a fool of themselves, but she was wrong.

Halfway to the door someone suggested that Faith might like to come back to his bunk, where he’d show her what a real man could do; he compounded his mistake by grabbing hold of Faith’s arm. As quick as lightning, Faith knocked the trooper’s hand away and had him in an arm lock. Pushing the soldiers hand back against his wrist with one hand she forced him to his knees. Her other hand pulled her Remington and placed it against the struggling man’s temple; the room was reduced to silence as she pulled back the hammer with her thumb.

“Y’know assaulting a Federal Marshal is a serious offence?” Faith asked levelly.

The soldier nodded his head vigorously as the sweat broke from his brow and he gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm.

“Good,” Faith eyed the rest of the men in the room; as usual she was the centre of attention. “Well I’m feeling in a generous mood so I won’t be pressing charges; just make sure it don’t happen again, okay?”

Again the man nodded, Faith let go of his arm. Before continuing towards the doors, Faith gave the crowd a hard stare before holstering her revolver and slowly walking out into the night. Walking out of the saloon and down the steps onto the sand, Faith turned and grabbed the trooper who’d foolishly followed her outside in the hopes of getting some ‘payback’. Throwing him into a nearby water trough, Faith hardly broke step as she headed back towards her room.

Listening to the sounds of the man in the water and his buddies trying to help him out while not laughing at him too much, Faith hoped that would be the end of it. After two years of dealing with the chauvinism of this age she’d have thought she’d be able to accept it. But no, every town was the same; there was always the thing about her being a whore or Albert’s mistress. Then there’d always be some asshole who’d need to show how manly he was by beating on the girl with the gun; how many men had she had to shoot because of that? It had to be at least a round dozen by now. 

Of course Faith had tried not to kill any of them, they where just jerks and didn’t really deserve to die. But, what with the crappy medical care to be found in most towns a few inevitably died. Maybe she should cut Albert loose and head out on her own, perhaps find somewhere were a girl who wasn’t a simpering idiot or a whore could make a life for herself. Faith laughed hollowly, like there was anywhere like that in this world of chauvinist jerks.

Coming out of her dark mood, Faith stopped and looked around. Somehow her feet had taken her to the post cemetery. Smiling to herself, Faith shook her head, typical slayer, she told herself. If there was a graveyard close by she’d find herself in it one way or another. Walking slowly around between the headstones, Faith noted they were all old ones. Nothing had risen here in years, if they ever had. There were no crypts or tombs for vampires or demons to make their homes in. In fact there was nothing but a couple of dozen crocked crosses and a few more substantial grave stones.

Just as Faith was about to head on back to her bed, she heard someone or something move behind her. Turning and crouching down behind a bush, Faith scanned the graveyard for movement. Sure enough, she saw a dark shape walk slowly between the grave markers before it sat down in front of a group of three tombstones. Moving silently to where she could get a better look at the demon or whatever it was, Faith was startled to see the tall officer from earlier that afternoon, Captain Brittles. 

He sat on a stool as he watered some flowers around the tombstones. He was carrying on a conversation as if there was someone there in the cemetery with him. Hunkering down behind a grave, Faith realised what was going on. The Captain was talking to his dead wife; there was nothing evil going on it was just an old guy talking to his wife as if they were sitting around the fire together.

“Well, Mary,” Brittles dipped his gourd into a bucket of water as he continued to water the flowers around his wife’s grave, “only six more days to go and your old Nathan will be out of the army.” Nathan Brittles paused as he refilled his gourd, “Haven’t decided what I’ll do yet,” he told Mary as he ran the water filled gourd over the flowers. “Somehow I can’t picture myself back on the banks of the Wabash, rocking on the front porch,” Nathan put down his gourd and gave his wife’s headstone his full attention. “Think I’ll head on west, California maybe…well, take the troop out in the morning, pick up the patrols and drive the Indians back to the reservation. Probably be my last mission…”

Crawling backwards, Faith left the old man to talk with his wife. When she was far enough away so she wouldn’t be noticed, she got slowly to her feet. Wondering if there’d ever be anyone to water the flowers on her grave, she didn’t notice the figure rise up from behind a sage bush until it leapt out in front of her.

“Slayer!” hissed the vampire Indian who crouched in front of her ready to attack.

“Jeez,” Faith didn’t even bother going for her gun, she just stood there in front of the vamp and looked at him with a bored expression on her face, “when are you guys gonna come up with something new?”

“I have message from Walks-by-Night,” the vampire Indian drew a Bowie knife from a sheath on his belt.

“Okay, lets hear it,” Faith sighed wearily.

“You die white eyes!” The vampire lunged at Faith sweeping his knife so as to slice open her stomach, if she’d still been standing there.

Throwing herself backwards, Faith rolled and bounced easily to her feet. While the Indian was still unbalanced from not connecting with her body, she stepped forward and landed a full strength blow to the side of the vampire’s head. The Indian staggered away from her shaking his head trying to clear it of the bells that now rang in his ears. Feeling just a little insulted, the vampire was obviously newly raised, Faith didn’t give it time to recover. 

Stepping up to the vamp, she kicked the knife out of its hand before knocking its legs out from under it. The Indian vamp went down with a crash breaking down part of the old wooden fence around the graveyard. Jumping on top of the struggling vampire, Faith grabbed a piece of broken fence and drove it through the bloodsucker’s heart. The vampire turned to dust under her, a surprised expression on its face. Quickly, Faith jumped back to her feet, drew her pistol and fired twice into the night, moments later, Captain Brittles turned up pistol in hand.

“What the hell?” He demanded as he came upon Faith.

“Indian tried to attack me,” Faith started to reload her pistol.

“Well,” Brittles looked out into the dark, “there’s no Indians here now.”

To Faith it sounded like he didn’t really believe her.

“Yeah, like I fought him off,” Faith explained, “and he ran,” she holstered her pistol, “I don’t think I hit him.”

Brittles gave Faith a thin lipped look that told of his disbelief. Faith sighed, he’d learn. He probably thought she’d been playing about with her gun and it’d gone off by accident. Obviously she’d made up the story of the Indian to save herself embarrassment. Driving down the anger that was growing like a wild beast in her chest, Faith’s eyes fell on something lying in the sand. Stepping forward she picked the object up and hefted it in her hand.

“Left his knife behind though,” she grinned; it was a good knife too, sharp and well balanced, good for throwing or stabbing.

“Let me see that,” Brittles held out his hand.

Passing over the knife, Faith let Brittles examine it in the moonlight.

“It’s an Indian knife, sure enough,” Brittles passed the weapon back to Faith, “if you look on the hilt there you can see the tribal markings.”

Just than a young officer at the head of four troopers clutching rifles turned up.

“WHO GOES…?” 

“It’s all right Mr Cohill,” called Brittles, “Miss Lehane here just had a scrape with a raider.”

“Is she alright?” Cohill advanced on Brittles while turning his head to look at Faith, “should I call the doctor?”

“No Lieutenant,” Brittles replied with a chuckle, “Miss Lehane is fine, the Indian’s probably still running for his life.”

“Oh I…” Cohill looked from Brittles back to Faith and frowned; the young woman didn’t look big enough to fight off anything let alone an Indian brave.

“Faith!?” Albert ran out of the darkness to join the little group, he held his Henry rifle loosely in his hands.

“I’m fine,” Faith bent to retrieve her hat and knocked the dust from it, “just a little ‘dust-up’ with one of the local creeps.”

“Oh,” Albert nodded at Faith’s coded explanation, “that’s alright then.”

“Nothing to be done here now,” Brittles pointed out, “that buck’s probably halfway to Mexico by now.”

Everyone gave a relieved laugh, before returning to whatever they’d been doing before the attack. Faith and Albert walked together towards the officer’s quarters where they were staying.

“Looks like this ‘Walks’ guy knows I’m here,” Faith observed.

“Dashed odd that,” Albert agreed, “wonder how he found out. It’s not as if we turned up with flags waving and bands playing’.”

“Whatever,” Faith yawned, “I’m beat,” they started to climb the stairs towards their rooms, “I’m gonna take advantage of that bed, lumps an’ all.”

“Yes, old thing,” Albert nodded his agreement, “busy day tomorrow I expect.”

“Goodnight, Albert,” Faith gave a careless wave as she opened the door and went into her room.

“Goodnight Faith old thing, sleep tight,” Albert returned her wave and walked off to his own bed.

0=0=0=0


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Captain Nathan Brittles checked his watch just as Sergeant Quincannon knocked on the door of his quarters. Same time as usual, Brittles smiled, five-fifty-two. Snapping shut the cover of his watch Brittles called for his senior non-commissioned officer to come in.

“Time sir!” Quincannon burst through the door like a charging buffalo.

“Yes it is,” agreed Brittles as he walked from his little bedroom into his equally small living room and office. “Well, old comrade,” Brittles stamped his feet settling his boots into position, “last patrol, eh?”

“Aye,” agreed the big Irishman, “the last of many, Sir.”

“Five more days,” Brittles turned and marked off another day on his calendar, “until I retire.”

“Another three weeks for me,” Quincannon observed with a shake of his head.

“Days, weeks, what’s the difference?” Brittles picked up his greatcoat before turning back to Quincannon and looking him in the eye. “Well, are you going to stand there all morning?”

“I’m sorry Captain…” Quincannon moved to get out of Brittles’ way.

“Don’t apologise…” barked Brittles pulling on his gloves.

“It’s a sign of weakness!” chorused both men.

The two old comrades shared a short moment of silence as they remembered the years they had spent together out on the prairies fighting Indians.

“Ready?” Brittles asked quietly.

“Aye, ready sir,” Quincannon fell in behind Brittles as he marched out into the new day.

The morning was bright and cold with just a hint of mist. Brittles took a deep breath smelling the familiar scents of horses and wood smoke. Passing his greatcoat to his bugler, who was waiting outside for him with his horse he exchanged salutes with Sergeant Hochbauer who stood at attention with the Captain’s orders. Brittles watched as his troop filed from the stables towards the parade square.

“Good morning, men,” he called cheerily, well pleased by what he was seeing; the men looked well turned out and ready to face the rigours of another campaign.

His good mood was spoilt, however, when he saw a team of horses pulling a wagon. The wagon was mixed up with his troop and it was obvious that it was intended to join him on his patrol.

“What’s this?” Brittles asked in disbelief, “Hochbauer?”

“By order of Major Allshard,” Hochbauer replied knowing full well what the Captain wanted to know.

“There’s no wagon going on this patrol,” Brittles pointed out angrily.

“Orders Sir,” Hochbauer repeated.

“Orders, huh?” Brittles’ eyes narrowed as he looked across the parade ground towards the headquarters block.

“Yes, Sir,” Hochbauer agreed once more.

“Huh!” Brittles grunted quietly as he marched across the parade square towards Major Allshard’s office.

Coming around the corner of the headquarters building, Brittles saw two troopers holding the reins of two horses, each fitted with a side saddle.

“Side saddle, Finn?” Brittles demanded of one of the troopers.

“Side saddle, Sir,” Trooper Michael Finn agreed without any emotion.

Coming fully around the corner, Brittles saw the English Major and the female Marshal. The sight brought Brittles to a momentary halt. These two at least looked as if they knew what they were doing. From what he’d heard the Englishman had been on more than a few campaigns. The female Marshal, Lehane, looked like she knew what she was doing by the way she adjusted her horse’s tack and from the way she was dressed. He’d also heard she’d dealt with the unwanted advances of one of his troopers the night before, leaving the man looking foolish and soaking wet. This was before she’d had the run in with the Indian raider; she’d certainly had a busy night.

Although he didn’t like the idea of having a woman along he rationalised that someone must think she was up to it, she certainly looked tough enough, so he could live with it. But if Major Allshard thought he could take his women-folk on a pleasant country ride, he had another thing coming. Running up the steps outside the block, Brittles burst into Allshard’s office.

“Side saddle!” Brittles slammed the door behind him, “Major Allshard, what in blazes…”

“Hold it,” Allshard said calmly as he shook out a match after lighting his pipe, “I know,” he sighed, “the wagon.”

“Yes, the wagon!” Brittles pulled off his gloves and threw them onto Allshard’s desk, “A wagon full of women’s junk! I can’t hamper this patrol,” Brittles continued, his temper not improved by his commanding officer’s seeming lack of concern. “Particularly this patrol.”

“Nathan,” Allshard puffed tobacco smoke into the air, “I’m sending my wife and her niece with you, at least as far as Sudrow’s Wells, where they’ll take the stage east to the railroad,” Allshard drew on his pipe and sent another cloud of smoke billowing into the air before adding, “That’s an order Captain.”

“I wish to protest that order,” Brittles replied sternly.

“I thought you might,” Allshard pointed to several sheets of paper and a pencil already laid out on his desk, “put it in writing.”

“I intend to,” Brittles pulled over a chair, sat down and started to write.

“Nathan,” Allshard walked slowly across the room and poured a cup of coffee, “I sat up half the night with this.” Allshard retraced his steps and put the coffee next to Brittles’ hand. “I can’t keep the Dandridge girl here,” he said referring to his wife’s niece, “she ain’t army.”

“I’ll say she ain’t...” agreed Brittles as he wrote. “...how many R’s in territory?”

“Two,” Allshard sat down in a spare chair still puffing on his pipe.

0=0=0=0

Outside Faith swung herself into the saddle, shifted her holster into a more comfortable position then checked on her new knife. Turning her horse so she was facing the parade square she watched as the big Irish sergeant addressed the troopers who’d be going on the patrol.

“Men!” Quincannon called as he stood at attention in front of the troop, “I want you to pay strict attention to what I say,” the sergeant paused as he collected his thoughts, “now, there’s gonna be women with this column, and I want you men to watch them words,” the Irishman jabbed his finger at the motionless soldiers to emphasise what he was saying, “Watch them words!”

“Watch them grammar!” called a voice from the rear ranks.

Smiling, Faith turned away to see one of the young officers waiting outside the Major’s office, it was Lieutenant Cohill the same officer who’d been on duty the night before. Again Faith smiled to herself, the young man, actually he was older than Faith but he looked younger, was doing his best not to stare at her. After thinking for a moment how handsome he looked in his uniform, Faith dismissed any ideas she might have about getting him into bed; this was neither the time nor the place.

0=0=0=0

“Poor Abby,” Allshard took the pipe from his mouth, “she says everyone will think she’s running away…I mean it’s gonna be tough on me too, I’ll be a bachelor all winter!”

“And in conclusion,” Brittles was coming to the end of his written protest, “I respectfully protest my commanding officer’s decision to saddle this troop with his female relations.”

“Sounds very good Nathan,” Allshard reached for the sheet of paper in Brittles’ hand, “give it here I’ll file it with all the rest.”

“I know this was a hard decision, for you,” Brittles got slowly to his feet.

“Hate to hamstring you this way Nathan,” Allshard placed the protest on the sergeant’s desk for later filling, “but you will take care.”

“Of course,” Brittles nodded.

“Yes, of course you will,” Allshard agreed, “sorry I mentioned it.”

A door from another part of the building opened to admit Abby Allshard, the Major’s wife.

“Well,” Abby strode across the room dressed in a light blue riding skirt and a much modified dark blue trooper’s jacket, she stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, “here I am,” she looked at her husband, “how did Nathan take the idea of old ‘Iron Pants’ riding with him?”

“Under protest, my dear,” sighed Allshard with a slight grin on his face.

“Written protest, Abby,” corrected Brittles, “written protest.”

0=0=0=0

Waiting outside the Major’s office for Captain Brittles, Lieutenant Cohill dragged his eyes off the female Marshal when he heard someone approach along the boardwalk. Turning he saw Olivia Dandridge dressed like some sort of female trooper. The kepi on her head sat at a rakish angle to better show off the yellow ribbon she wore in her hair.

“Good morning, Mr Cohill,” Olivia called mellifluously as she approached.

“Good morning, Miss Dandridge,” Cohill removed his battered campaign hat at the young woman’s approach.

“I hope you approve of my uniform,” the young woman teased softly.

Faith who was watching the interplay between the young couple from several yards away almost threw-up at the girl’s syrupy sounding voice.

“Yes, indeed,” Cohill replied, hesitantly he took a step towards the girl, “it’s very lovely.”

Faith nearly laughed out loud, men! Couldn’t this guy see she was just leading him on? The girl turned so Cohill got a good look at the yellow ribbon in her hair.

“S-so,” Cohill was almost stammering by now, “Ross has branded you with his yellow ribbon?”

“How do you know it isn’t for you,” Olivia smiled coyly, “Mr Cohill?”

It was all Faith could do to stop herself from jumping from her horse and bitch slapping the pair of them; him for being such a jerk and her for being such a slut.

“I’d be very happy if I thought,” Cohill continued to make a fool of himself, “it was for me.”

“Good morning!” Just at that moment Captain Brittles burst from Allshard’s office, he raised his hat politely to the Dandridge girl.

“Trooper Dandridge, reporting for duty,” Olivia Dandridge stood at a parody of attention and gave Brittles a mock salute.

Faith half hoped that Brittles would put the girl over his knee and give her a good thrashing for being such a tease, she was, however, to be disappointed.

“Well,” Brittles looked the girl up and down, “a proper trooper, right pretty. What do you think Mr Cohill?”

“Yes Sir!” Cohill retreated into military protocol. 

“A yellow ribbon?” Brittles smiled indulgently, “Do you know what that means in the cavalry? A sweetheart.”

“It does?” Olivia replied all wide eyed innocence.

It was only the thought that it would piss Albert off that prevented Faith from going over there and punching the little whore on the nose. Olivia Dandridge was a disgrace to her entire sex!

“Who’s it for,” Brittles asked smiling.

“Why,” Olivia fluttered her eyelashes at the older officer, “for you Captain Brittles.”

The sound of Faith grinding her teeth could be distinctly heard from several feet away.

“For me!” Brittles laughed, “I’ll make these young bucks jealous.”

Turning away from the girl, Brittles headed out to where his troop waited for him.

“You look nice,” Abby Allshard appeared on the scene, taking hold of Olivia’s arm she pulled her towards the waiting horses, “I do hope Ross notices that yellow ribbon.”

Urging her horse forward, Faith left Cohill fuming in front of the headquarters building. Following Abby Allshard and the Dandridge girl she watched as a trooper helped Olivia into her saddle. Once mounted she turned to speak to Mr Pennell who just happened to be sitting on his horse next to hers.

“I hope you’re wearing that yellow ribbon for me,” Lieutenant Pennell asked saying exactly what Olivia had wanted him to say.

“Why who else would I be wearing it for?” Olivia asked fluttering her eyelashes fast enough to cause a small hurricane.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Faith nudged ‘B’ up next to the Dandridge girl’s horse; she leaned over to whisper in the girl’s ear.

“Bitch,” she said quietly before turning away to find Albert.

As she rode away, Faith felt a shiver go down her spine that was nothing to do with the chilly morning air. Turning her head quickly to look back at the girl, Faith’s hand automatically rested on the butt of her revolver; Faith and Olivia’s eyes met as the girl’s eyes flashed anger at Faith.

“Play nicely, Faith,” Albert rode his horse between Faith and Olivia; he glanced over at the Dandridge girl and smiled politely.

“Oh, not you as well,” Faith sighed.

“Sorry?” Albert turned to look at Faith and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“There’s something off with that girl,” Faith almost snarled the words.

“I say,” Albert led the way over towards the gate, “steady on old thing, what do you mean?”

“Oh,” Faith shrugged, “I don’t know, just a feeling.”

“Ah!” Albert nodded as they rode out the gate, “The famous Lehane ‘six sense’.”

“Whatever,” Faith urged B into a trot and pulled away from Albert.

0=0=0=0

Unnoticed by anyone, three men in a buckboard left the fort not long after Brittles and his troop started their patrol. After leaving the fort the buckboard drove along the main track until it was out of sight of the sentries before turning off the track and heading across country.

0=0=0=0

After riding for an hour across the flat, sage bush dotted plain between the giant mesas, Captain Brittles ordered the troop to walk and lead their horses. For a while Faith walked alongside the wagon where Mrs Allshard, complained about the lack of springs and army life in general.

“You know,” she told Faith, “I planted twenty-four gardens in my first ten years and never saw one bloom?”

Faith tried to smile politely while looking for a way of escaping the woman’s complaints. Luckily something happened at the front of the column that would give her an excuse to ride away. Up on the skyline of a low ridge ahead of them, Faith saw Sergeant Tyree halt his horse and wave his hat in the air. Ordering the column to halt, Brittles rode forward with his bugler to see what the problem was.

Glancing around, Faith caught Albert’s eye and jerked her head towards the front of the column before swinging up into her saddle. Galloping up behind Brittles, she caught up with him just as he halted on the ridgeline. He turned to give her a slightly annoyed look but didn’t say anything. Sergeant Tyree pointed towards a long dust cloud about a mile ahead of them just as Albert trotted up to join the group. Faith shaded her eyes with her hat as her sharp slayer eyes picked out a long untidy column of Indians moving slowly across the plain.

“Can you make them out Sergeant?” Brittles asked.

“Looks like they’re moving the whole village, Sir,” Tyree pointed to wagons and women amongst the horsemen.

“Sharp eyes there, Sergeant,” Albert observed at he watched the column through his own binoculars.

“You’re right, Tyree,” agreed Brittles after studying the Indians through his own glasses, “they’re heading the same way we are.” Brittles turned towards his sergeant, “Now why do you think they’re heading for Sudrow’s Wells?”

“My mother didn’t raise any sons to make guesses in front of Yankee officers, Sir.” Tyree replied.

“Well I’d like to find out,” Brittles said as if talking to himself. “but we can’t risk it with those women,” for a moment Brittles sat in silence before turning to his bugler, “Officer’s call!”

The trumpeter put his instrument to his lips and blew the call. Albert winced at the noise the bugler was making.

“Hear that bloody noise for miles around,” he said softly to Faith.

“I thought that was the idea,” Faith turned in her saddle to see several riders gallop towards the little group on the ridgeline.

“Yes,” Albert agreed, “but I never thought it a good idea to let the enemy know where you are.”

Turning to look at the Indians again, Faith saw Albert’s point, chances were the sound would carry to the Indians; it wasn’t something you wanted to take chances with.

Lieutenants Cohill and Pennell rode up with Olivia Dandridge riding between them; once again Faith felt a shiver of unease at the proximity of the girl. It was no good she’d have to talk about it with Albert, there was something strange about the girl.

“Are those real Indians, Captain, are you going to fight them?” Olivia asked a little too eagerly for Faith’s tastes.

“Rejoin the column,” Captain Brittles told her quietly.

“Captain Brittles!” the girl’s eyes flashed as she turned towards the grey haired officer; Faith almost felt faint as a wave of…she didn’t know what emanated from the Dandridge girl; fortunately it didn’t have any effect on the captain.

“Rejoin the column,” repeated Brittles, “and keep your interval.”

With an ill will, Olivia turned her horse and galloped back to the column.

“Didn’t you feel that?” Faith asked Albert once the girl had gone.

“Feel what?” Albert gave Faith a concerned look.

“Oh,” Faith sighed wearily, “I’ll talk to ya about it later.”

“Whatever, old thing,” Albert said with a smile.

“I don’t like it Mr Cohill,” Captain Brittles finally announced, “I don’t like it at all. We’re turning east gentlemen,” Brittles turned to look at Faith, “and lady. Give them a wide berth. Go through Twin Forks to get to Sudrow’s Wells.”

“But we’ll lose half a day,” Mr Cohill pointed out.

“The ladies might miss their stage, Sir.” Added Mr Penell.

“Would you have them miss their scalps, Mr Pennell?” Asked Brittles.

0=0=0=0


	5. Chapter 5

5.

“Just look at her will ya?” Faith spat the words out as she rode next to Albert.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, my dear,” Albert watched Olivia Dandridge as she rode by the side of Lieutenant Cohill.

“Can’t ya see it?” Faith asked her frustration growing.

“See what?” Albert was puzzled; he couldn’t understand his slayer’s concerns. “All I see is a nice, well brought up young woman making polite conversation with one of the officers. There’s nothing sinister going on Faith,” Albert gave his slayer a pitying look, “Ah, I see what’s going on,” Albert smiled indulgently, “you’re jealous!” 

“Jealous!” Faith had to struggle to keep herself from shouting the word out loud, “Me? Jealous of that…that…” Faith’s vocabulary failed her and she wished she knew some of the fancy words Albert did, finally she settled on; “Slut!”

“No,” Albert gazed lovingly at the young woman in question, “I can see what it is, you’re jealous because she’d so much prettier than you and refined and rich and…”

“No way is she prettier than me!” Faith snapped back, “An’ refined isn’t gonna help when there’s a vamp after ya and she ain’t even oil!”

“‘Scuse me Ma’am-Marshal,” an older trooper rode his horse next to Faith’s for a moment, he touched the brim of his hat as he turned to speak to Faith “I think you’re way priddier than her.”

“Thanks!” Faith nodded to the man and then realised that people could overhear what Albert and herself were saying, “Damn!”

Leaning over, Faith grabbed hold of Albert’s bridle and pulled him and his horse out of the column.

“I say!” Cried Albert as his horse was led away from the column, “What’s going on? Faith, what do you think you’re doing my girl?”

It was only when they were nearly a hundred yards from the column did Faith let go of Albert’s reins. Halting their horses they looked at each other for a moment without speaking, slowly a look of confusion followed by one of anger crossed Albert’s face.

“Oh my god,” Albert gasped, “I’m so sorry Faith, I-I don’t know what came over me!”

“’bout time too,” sulked Faith as she realised that whatever hold Olivia Dandridge had over her watcher had been broken. “How could you say stuff like that, eh? Me jealous? I’m never jealous at least not of a scanky ho like her.”

“Scanky ho?” Albert frowned.

“Whatever,” Faith wiped at her eyes, although she’d never admit it the thought that her watcher had eyes for anyone but her had really hurt, “how could ya think I was jealous? I’m never jealous, tell me one time I was jealous?”

“Denver,” Albert replied instantly, “when you saw me chatting to that school teacher lady.”

“That was different,” Faith explained crossly.

“You shot her Faith,” a ghost of a smile played around Albert’s mouth.

“She was a demon!” Faith pleaded.

“You didn’t know that at the time,” Albert said with infuriating calm, “we didn’t know she was a demon until after you shot her. I seem to remember I was quite cross with you at the time.”

“Just as well I shot her then,” Faith waved her hand dismissively, the thought never entered her mind that she might love her watcher; Faith Lehane love somebody? Like that was going to happen.

“So,” Albert changed the subject, “what d’you think this Dandridge woman is? Demon? Witch? Silly little girl who’s playing with powers she doesn’t understand?”

“I don’t know,” Faith shrugged her shoulders, “you’re the watcher you tell me, I just kill things.”

“Hmm,” Albert gazed off across the sage dotted desert, “does your famous sixth sense tell you nothing?”

“Nah,” Faith shook her head, “I don’t get no ‘evil vibe’ off her, just a feeling of…” again words failed Faith as she looked at Albert’s patient face and frowned. “...of…y’know? Not rightness…” Faith gave up trying to articulate her feelings.

“I think I do, my dear,” Albert rested a fatherly hand on her shoulder for a moment, “I think she’s just a silly girl playing with things she doesn’t understand…”

A trooper galloped up to them before Albert could complete his thought, the man reined in his horse in a cloud of dust.

“Captain Brittles’ compliments, Sir, Ma’am,” the trooper touched his hat in salute, “but he says, would you mind rejoining the column?”

“I bet he didn’t, Trooper,” Albert laughed, “at least not in those words,” the trooper smiled knowingly at Albert, “tell the good Captain we’ll be along presently.”

“Sir, Ma’am,” the trooper once again touched the brim of his hat before turning his horse ‘round and galloping back to the front of the column.

“Ah!” Albert said just as he was about to lead the way back to the column.

“Ah, what?” Faith looked at her watcher wondering what new problem was about to present itself.

“If I go back to the column,” Albert mused, “chances are I’ll fall under Miss Dandridge’s spell again. It seems obvious to me that whatever it is she’s doing, the closer one is to her the stronger the effect.”

“Maybe, now you know it’s a spell,” Faith suggested hopefully, “you won’t be affected so much.”

“My dear girl,” Albert smiled tolerantly, “in many ways you are a fine and knowledgeable young woman. However, in the field of magic your skills are sadly lacking…”

“Hey! I noticed something was wrong way before you did,” Faith snapped angrily.

“Indeed you did,” Albert ignored Faith’s flash of temper as he urged his horse back towards the column, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I might fall under her spell at any moment.”

“Right,” Faith nodded her head as she urged B to follow Albert’s horse, “so if you’re so clever, what ya gonna do about it?”

“Try to keep away from her I suppose,” Albert suggested.

“Like that’s gonna work,” Faith sighed.

“You can’t shoot her Faith,” Albert cautioned, “I won’t allow it…not again!”

0=0=0=0

“How do you feel?” Faith asked quietly as they rode just in front of the wagon after rejoining the column.

“Fine!” Albert replied with a smile, “No feelings of attraction towards Miss Dandridge what-so-ever. I’m afraid I’ve miss judged you Faith for which I heartily apologise.”

“You do?” Faith sat back in her saddle, she’d have felt vindicated if she’d known what the word meant.

“Yes your common sense approach appears to have been right on the button,” Albert smiled warmly at his slayer, “well done!”

“So,” Faith looked around, “how do we break the spell on the rest of ‘em?”

“Well,” Albert thought for a moment, “it would appear that distance and the realisation that one is in fact under a spell has the effect of breaking it.”

“Yeah,” Faith nodded her head slowly, “isn’t that what I just said?”

“Indeed,” Albert agreed, “now don’t interrupt please…while getting the affected men away from her wouldn’t be too difficult. The spell only seems to be affecting the officers. Getting them to believe they are under some sort of love spell is quite another thing.”

“Yeah,” again Faith nodded her head, “I can see how that’d be a problem.”

“And one I’ll have to think about,” mused Albert.

“Hey,” Faith interrupted Albert’s thoughts and pointed to the head of the column, “something happening up front.”

0=0=0=0

Up at the head of the column, Captain Brittles brought his horse to a halt and gazed out over the wide, shallow valley in front of him. He looked in awe at the herd that was spread out in front of him.

“Buffalo!” he said in wonder to his two Lieutenants, “Buffalo, Mr Cohill.”

“Yes sir,” Flint Cohill smiled at his commanding officer’s obvious pleasure.

“First time the herd’s been this far north since…” Brittles removed his hat and scratched his head, “...since I don’t remember when,” Captain Brittles shook his head remembering the old days, “You never saw buffalo, did you Mr Pennell?”

“No sir, not in these numbers,” Pennell had of course seen buffalo before but never in such a large herd.

“Sergeant Quincannon!” Captain Brittles called, “Escort the ladies forward.”

Moments later Abby Allshard and Olivia Dandridge rode up with Sergeant Quincannon.

“Why, Aunt Abby that’s really Buffalo!” Olivia pointed at the great herd of shaggy brown beasts just as Faith and Albert rode up behind them.

“If you want to see something spectacular,” Albert said as he stopped next to the young woman, “wait until you see the great herds on the plains in Africa.”

“Ain’t nothin’ special,” agreed Faith, she’d seen it all before on the Discovery channel.

“Reminds me of the old days,” Quincannon sighed wistfully, “when whiskey was fifty cents a gallon.”

“You mark my words,” Captain Brittles said slowly, “there’ll be Indians ‘round that herd thicker than flies on dog sh…” the captain coughed to cover his near mistake, “...like flies on sugar,” he corrected.

“You know, Captain,” Albert urged his horse a few steps closer to Captain Brittles, “If I were Walks-by-Night or his confederate Red Shirt. I’d be telling anyone who’d listen that it was I who made the magic that brought the buffalo back.”

“Yep,” agreed Brittles, “I was just thinking that. If it was me I’d be preachin’ holy war an’ how all Indians should band together and drive the white-man back into the sea.”

“Indeed,” Albert pointed to the herd, “its things like this that can cause no end of trouble.”

“Sergeant Tyree!” Captain Brittles called the young NCO over.

“Sir?” Tyree walked his horse over to the captain.

“Sergeant Tyree, you’re well mounted,” Captain Brittles gestured to the other side of the valley, “make for the Snake River, pick up the patrol there. Then proceed at your best pace to Sudrow’s Wells and hold the stage for the ladies.”

“Captain Brittles!” Albert called, “If you don’t mind I’d like to send the Marshal with your sergeant.”

“What!?” Captain Brittles turned towards Albert, “But…”

“Marshal Lehane is more than capable of looking after both herself and the sergeant,” Albert explained briskly, “if she wasn’t I wouldn’t suggest that she leave the column.”

“Well…” Captain Brittles pondered the problem for a moment, “...I don’t suppose I can really stop you.”

Looking at the young woman, Captain Brittles saw something hard in her eyes, she certainly looked capable and anyway, she was probably just as safe with Sergeant Tyree as she was with the column.

“Carry on,” Brittles nodded his consent to Albert.

“Now Faith,” Albert whispered his orders, “make sure that the sergeant and this patrol stay alive. I’m thinking that Walks-by-Night might take it into his head to attack a small party.”

“Got it,” Faith nodded her head, “you be alright with the column?”

“Not to worry, old thing,” Albert smiled at Faith’s concern, “now I know about Miss Dandridge’s little games I’ll be fine.”

Watching as Faith and Sergeant Tyree galloped off through the buffalo heard, Albert felt Captain Brittles ride over to him and stand beside him.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Major Cardwell,” Brittles said quietly, “I’d hate to find that young woman’s hair hanging on a lodge pole.”

“Never happen,” Albert reassured the American officer.

0=0=0=0

After another hour or so of walking and riding, Albert heard the sound of firing coming from somewhere in front of the column. Riding forward as Captain Brittles halted the column he pulled his Henry rifle from its holster on his saddle.

“Ladies to the rear!” called Brittles, “Mr Cohill!”

Brittles, Cohill and the bugler rode forward, with Albert tagging on behind the little group.

“First two sets of fours, forward,” cried Brittles in a voice that carried easily back to the column, he noticed Albert for the first time, “Well come on Major,” he smiled, “lets go see what’s goin’ on.”

Once again they galloped forward until they came to a long, low berm that ran at right angles to their line of march. Halting the little force, Brittles ordered his troopers to dismount and take up positions along the berm. Watching as the men obeyed their officer, Albert nodded with satisfaction. The cavalry troopers moved quickly into position and brought up their carbines ready to open fire. Satisfied that the troopers appeared to know what they were doing, Albert frowned when he noticed that the men were still equipped with single-shot breach loaders. The British army had been using bolt action, magazine rifles and carbines since 1888.

“Bloody backward American’s,” he muttered quietly to himself.

Looking out across the bush dotted desert, Albert saw half a dozen uniformed riders gallop across the sand about five hundred yards away. The men and horses disappeared from view every few seconds as they rode in and out of dips in the ground or behind bushes. But it was obvious that they were running from something as they fired over their shoulders every few yards.

“It’s Quayne’s patrol, men,” Brittles called to his troopers, “hold your fire.”

Pulling his binoculars from their case, Albert watched as the little drama unfolded before him. His grip on his glasses tightened as he saw the first of the Indians ride into view chasing the patrol.

“Sound recall,” Brittles ordered his trumpeter.

The man rode forward a couple of paces, put his instrument to his lips and blew. Hearing the sound the embattled patrol paused searching for the call’s origin. Waving his hat in the air, Captain Brittles called to the isolated troopers as the trumpeter continued to sound ‘recall’. Seeing the movement and hearing the bugle call, the patrol changed direction and galloped towards Captain Brittles, urging their tired mounts to one last effort.

Finally as the patrol reached the Captain’s position; a wounded man fell from the back of his buddy’s horse as the patrol reined in their horses. Albert could see that there were in fact only five men and a pack horse, men and horses both looked exhausted. Turning away from watching the patrol, Albert heard the war whoops of the Indians as they rode into view.

Slipping his binoculars back into their case, Albert took a firm hold on his rifle and slid from his saddle. He took up a firing position next to one of the troopers lying behind the berm as his horse trotted away to wait obediently a few yards to the rear. The Indians were in full view now less than a hundred yards away. There had to be at least thirty of them. They were being led by an Indian in a red shirt.

“Red Shirt!” Albert smiled as he worked the lever of his rifle and drew a bead on the Indian.

“Commence firing men,” ordered Captain Brittles, “shoot over their heads.”

Shooting over the heads of hostile natives had never been in Albert’s rule book, idea’s like that got you killed on the Northwest Frontier. Steadying his breathing, Albert aimed carefully for the centre of Red Shirt’s chest. Squeezing the trigger he felt the recoil of his rifle slam into his shoulder. As the gunsmoke cleared he saw Red Shirt stagger in his saddle but he didn’t fall from his horse.

“Damn it!” Albert worked the rifle’s lever loading another round while all around him the troopers fired slowly and deliberately over the Indian’s heads.

Changing his aim to another Indian, Albert fired again. He was gratified to see his target go limp and slide from the back of his horse. Ejecting the spent case, Albert looked for a new target. He didn’t feel obliged to follow Captain Brittles’ order about firing over the enemy’s heads. He’d always been taught that once you’d actually brought an elusive foe to battle it was best to kill as many of them as you could while you had the chance. Allowing them to escape only caused problems for the future.

The Indians halted about eighty yards away, they fired off a few ineffectual shots and waved sticks and spears at the cavalrymen before turning and riding away. Albert sent a few more rounds after them but didn’t see any more riders fall. Slowly the firing petered out and silence fell over the little battlefield.

0=0=0=0


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Leaving twin trails of dust in the cold air, Faith and Tyree rode across the uneven ground heading in the general direction of Sudrow’s Wells. 

“We’ll head for Hog Butte,” Tyree called over his shoulder. “If we don’t cross the patrol’s trail there we’ll head up stream…hold it!”

Holding up his hand, Tyree brought his horse to a halt, Faith reined in beside him.

“What’s wrong?” Faith called as Tyree dismounted and ran a couple of paces to his right.

“Nothing for you to worry about, ma’am,” Tyree held up a battered old kepi that had been decorated by having a few feathers tied to its chin strap. “Bet this belongs to one of Red Shirt’s band,” he said more to himself than to Faith.

As Tyree was studying the old hat, Faith started to dislike Sergeant Tyree; the way he’d said for her not to worry had sounded very condescending. Just as she was about to challenge him on it her six-sense give her a nudge, looking up she was just in time to see six or eight Indians gallop over a nearby crest line.

“LOOK OUT!” Faith cried as she hauled her Remington from its holster; firing three times in rapid succession, she saw two Indians fall from their horses.

“RIDE!” Yelled Tyree, turning his horse he took hold of B’s bridle and galloped off down the shallow valley pulling Faith and her horse behind him as if she was incapable of galloping by herself; Faith considered shooting Tyree then and there but decided against it…for now.

Angry at herself for only hitting twice with three shots, Faith reluctantly followed Tyree. Twisting in her saddle she fired once more and was gratified to see another tribesman fall into the dust. Concentrating on riding, Tyree had let go of her horse’s bridle, Faith followed Tyree, up and over a low sandy ridge. On cresting the skyline, she saw that they were riding into a more open desert like area.

Frowning to herself, Faith wondered what Tyree was thinking of, surely they’d be better off sticking to an area with at least some cover. Reluctantly deciding that Tyree might know what he was doing and where he was going, she followed on behind him. Riding towards a big mesa that towered above the desert floor, Faith glanced over her shoulder to see where their pursuers where.

“What the fuck!?” Faith gasped in surprise.

When the chase had begun there had been eight Indians at most; she’d shot two and then another later on. It didn’t take a mathematical genius to work out that there should only be five Indians behind her. So, why were there at least twelve chasing her incredibly attractive ass all over creation? For a moment, Faith considered firing again, but she only had two rounds left in her pistol, so she decided to save them for later.

Looking up she saw Tyree head towards the mesa, Faith felt bullets whistle past her ears, she so wanted to stop and fight this out. There were only twelve of the tribesmen to deal with, not a problem for a slayer such as herself and with Tyree to watch her back the fight would be over in no time flat. However, Tyree seemed more interested in trying to outdistance the Indians; once again Faith supposed he knew what he was doing.

Following Tyree around the mesa, Faith saw him pull up his horse; good, she thought, maybe now they could stop and fight the bastards. Bringing B to a halt, Faith was just about to grab her rifle and dismount when she saw the reason Tyree had come to such a sudden halt. Half a dozen more tribesmen had sprung up in front of them.

“Crap!” Breathed Faith in surprise, “Where are these fuckers hiding, gofer holes?”

Setting B to gallop after Tyree, Faith lay low over her horse’s neck as bullets and arrows cleaved the air above her head. Feeling very exposed out here in the open, she looked behind her once more. There were now a good fifteen or twenty Indians in hot pursuit, she began to think that Tyree’d had the right idea from the get-go; what was worrying her now was how they were going to lose the bastards.

Risking lifting her head, Faith looked around for some sort of safe heaven that Tyree could be heading for. There was nothing, the desert here abouts hardly had any sage bushes let alone a welcoming fort or ranch. As far as Faith could see there was nothing but red-brown sand and Indians in all directions.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Faith called as she brought B up next to Tyree’s horse.

“Not far now, ma’am,” replied the sergeant with an irritating smile. “I hope your horse can jump!”

Great, thought Faith, now he wanted her to do tricks! Looking ahead she saw it, the reason Tyree wanted to know if B could jump. There about fifty yards in front of them was a dry gulch, as she got closer, Faith found she couldn’t see the bottom, however that didn’t bother her, she was too worried about getting to the other side as Tyree appeared set to jump the gap.

Urging B on, Faith said a little prayer to a god she hadn’t really believed in since she was about nine. She felt B’s muscles bunch as the mare readied herself for the jump, seeing Tyree’s horse leap and fly over the gulch, Faith closed her eyes as B followed Tyree’s mount. For a moment all Faith could hear was the sound of her own heart as the whooping of the Indians receded into the background. The silence seemed to stretch indefinitely and Faith started to wonder if she was already dead having fallen to the bottom of the gulch.

Suddenly there was noise again, B’s hooves hit the hard surface on the other side of the gulch making the horse stumble a little. The sure footed mare soon had her legs sorted out and she trotted on a few paces as she waited for Faith to tell her what she wanted her to do next. Opening her eyes, Faith looked around, she was alive!

“GOD DAMN-IT!” She cried half in relief and half in exhilaration, pulling on her reins gently she turned B to face the pursuing Indians.

Most of the tribesmen brought their horses up short of the gulch. One brave tried to jump the gap but his horse refused and he tumbled from its back to fall to his death. The remaining Indians fired wildly after the two riders and yelled their disappointment at the sky for not being able to catch the pale-faces. Pulling her Winchester rifle from its scabbard, Faith brought the weapon to her shoulder. Sighting at what looked like a leader she fired and was gratified to see the Indian fall from his horse.

“Got-cha ya redskin bastard!” Faith snarled as she worked the lever to reload her weapon and fired once again.

“Hey!” Tyree reached over to grab Faith’s bridle to pull B around and away from the fight. B snapped at the man’s hand which he withdrew rapidly before the mare’s big yellow teeth could bite his wrist.

“What the…!” Faith turned to the sergeant heedless of the ill aimed bullets flying around her ears, “What the hell d’you think ya doin’?”

“Come on,” Tyree urged, “we’re not here to fight. This is no place for a woman.”

“So what are we here for?” Faith wanted to know, she also wanted to know what he meant by the ‘no place for a woman’ crack.

“To find the patrol and get to Sudrow’s Wells,” Tyree replied slowly as if talking to a simpleton.

Looking away from the soldier and back towards the Indians, Faith was disappointed to she them gallop off following the line of the gulch. For a moment she reconsidered killing Tyree and dumping his body in the gulch; she could say that he’d fallen or something. Again she rejected the idea as she watched the Indians depart. Tyree saw where her eyes were looking and misread her thoughts.

“Don’t worry ma’am, the closest crossing is a mile or two up the gulch,” he pointed out, “it’ll take ‘em a while to pick up our trail again, but we better get going.”

Reluctantly, Faith had to agree, slowly she brought her rifle down and rested the butt on her thigh.

“Okay,” Faith turned B so she was headed away from the gulch, “but it don’t feel right.”

“You wanted to stay an’ fight ‘em?” Tyree asked as they rode along at a ready trot, “No ma’am I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Why not?” Faith slipped a couple of replacement rounds into her rifle before returning it to its scabbard, “I thought that’s why we’re here.”

“No,” Tyree gave Faith a crooked smile, “we’re here to find the patrol and get you to Sudrow’s Wells and safety.”

“Safety huh?” as far as Faith could see it was Tyree who was being kept safe by her. Faith sighed tiredly, “Look, Albert…I mean Major Cardwell, he always told me to shoot as many of the bad guys as you can when you get the chance. Something about causing less casualties in the long run or something.”

“That maybe how it’s done in the British Empire,” Tyree slowed his horse down to a walk, “but that’s not our mission.”

“Suppose so,” Faith admitted grudgingly.

“So,” Tyree scanned the horizon as he spoke, “what’s this ‘John-Bull’ Major to you?”

“You what?” for a second Faith was puzzled as to what Tyree was talking about, after a second the penny dropped. “Oh you mean Albert…I mean Major Cardwell, he’s just a friend, you know? Someone I work with.”

“Seems more than that to me,” Tyree commented quietly before changing the subject.

The two riders rode on for an hour or so, Faith was happy to let Tyree do most of the talking as they let their horses amble along. Coming to the top of yet another low ridge, Tyree stopped and looked behind them. He took a telescope from a pouch on his saddle and swept it over the desert. Searching the red sand with her sharp eyes Faith could make out no sign of any pursuing tribesmen.

“Ya think we lost ‘em?” Faith asked.

“Oh,” Tyree snapped shut his telescope, “f’now…but I expect they’ll be back.”

“So where do we go to now?” Faith wanted to know.

“There,” Tyree pointed to a butte about a mile away, “Hog Butte, we should pick up the patrol there or find their tracks.”

Looking up at the sun before checking her watch, Faith saw that it was late afternoon, they’d been riding most of the day without a break. The horses would need to be rested soon unless they wanted to walk the rest of the way to Sudrow’s Wells.

“How far is it to this Wells place?” Faith wanted to know as she urged B down the other side of the ridge.

“Less than three miles from the butte there,” Tyree pointed out.

“Should be there by night fall, then?” Faith asked.

“Or a little later, if’n we’re lucky,” agreed Tyree.

They were in luck; when the two riders got to the top of Hog Butte they were just in time to meet the patrol as it made its way along the military crest of the butte. The corporal in charge of the patrol hadn’t wanted to skyline his men, a precaution that Faith thoroughly approved of. The cavalry patrol consisted of a Corporal Smith, four troopers and a pack horse.

They reported seeing plenty of ‘sign’ but no actual Indians. Of the party that had chased Faith and Tyree there was still no sign. Setting off at a brisk trot they made good time towards Sudrow’s Wells. The sun was still well above the horizon when they saw the smoke rising in the distance.

“Halt!” Tyree held up his hand and the patrol came to an untidy stop as all eyes watched the smoke climb lazily into the sky.

“Don’t tell me,” Faith said quietly and not without a little sarcasm, “that’s Sudrow’s Wells.”

“Reckon so,” agreed Tyree as he pulled his carbine from his saddle, the troopers followed suit.

“What now?” Faith also had her rifle out, she was eager to use it again.

“You stay here ma’am, the rest of you, follow me!” Tyree set his heels to his horse and it sprang forward at a good gallop.

Cursing under her breath, Faith ignored Tyree and urged B into a gallop to follow the sergeant and his men towards the staging post. The slightly fresher horses of the patrol got to the post first, Faith and Tyree and arrived only a little behind. Riding into the post, Faith pulled B to a halt and slid lithely from her back. The mare trotted on a few paces before turning and trotting into a position just behind Faith where she stopped and waited.

Rifle in hand, Faith took a moment to take in the scene. Over to her right was the still burning wreck of the stage. Ahead of her was the empty coral where the fresh horses for the stagecoach were normally kept. Obviously the Indians had burnt the stage then made off with the spare horses.

“Over here!” called one of the dismounted troopers.

He stood over the body of a man, an arrow sticking out of his back.

“Here’s another!” cried a second trooper.

“Stay back ma’am,” Tyree gestured for Faith to stay back; she ignored him and walked over to examine the body. “Either of them Mr Sudrow?” Tyree called as he ran over to look at the first body.

“No,” this was from Corporal Smith, “they must be the driver and the guard.”

“Spread out,” ordered Tyree, “Ma and Pa Sudrow should be around somewhere, and don’t forget the kids.”

“Shit,” Faith breathed quietly, “kids?”

Turning to her left and unnoticed by Tyree, Faith started to walk towards the long low building that formed the main part of the outpost. She’d seen these places before, the post manager and his family would live there. There’d also be a bunk-room for any travellers that might have to stay overnight. As she walked towards the building, Faith noticed that none of the shutters had been pulled shut. The attack must have caught everyone by surprise. Here and there she saw an arrow sticking into the clapboard walls along with a few bullet holes.

The door was wide open, even Faith’s enhanced eyes couldn’t see what was inside the darkened interior; there was too much difference between the still bright sun outside and the sinister shadow within the house. Faith paused in the doorway silhouetting herself to anyone hiding inside. But she knew she wasn’t in any danger, her senses told her that there was nothing alive in the building. Walking a few paces into the big main room, she saw the heavy dinning table turned on its side and behind it a middle aged man, still clutching a rifle, lay with a bullet hole in his forehead.

“FOUND ANOTHER ONE!” Faith called out.

Moments later Tyree appeared in the doorway, he walked over to where Faith stood and looked down at the body.

“That’s Pa Sudrow,” he announced quietly, “where’s…”

“Through here,” Faith pointed to another door.

Pushing the door open with the muzzle of her rifle, Faith walked into what had to be the kitchen.

“Fuck!” Faith’s shoulders relaxed as she called out, “Ya can stop searching I found Mrs Sudrow.”

Tyree came in and stood next to Faith as they both looked down at the poor woman’s broken body. The sergeant tried to prevent her from seeing what had been done to the woman.

“That’s never goin’ to happen to me,” Faith said as she put down her rifle and pushed past Tyree to stand over where the woman lay.

Pulling out the knives that had been used to pin her hands to the floor, Faith moved the dead woman’s arms to lie across her chest. Next she quickly closed the woman’s legs and tried to arrange what remained of her dress to cover her abused body.

“Here,” Tyree must have gone back into the main room and returned without Faith even noticing, he handed her a blanket.

“Tortured and raped to death in her own kitchen,” Faith covered the body with the blanket; she looked into Tyree’s sad eyes, “Bet ya wishin’ ya let me shoot a few more of the bastards now?”

“Sergeant!” a trooper burst into the kitchen and stood for a moment looking down at the huddled form under the blanket before he remembered what he’d come to say. “We found the kids, they’re a live. They were hiddin’ in the smoke house.

“Great!” Faith turned away and headed out through the main room to stand outside in the smoke scented air, “Another couple of orphans in the world, that’s all we need.”

As she stood there in the failing light, while a trooper collected up the horses and took them to the coral, Faith felt her slayer senses start to stir. Looking up she searched the surrounding bush and cursed. With the sky still bright and the sun so low even her slayer eyes couldn’t penetrate the dusk. Cursing softly under her breath she ran towards a rail fence. Taking cover behind a fence post, Faith peered into the darkened brush.

Suddenly she saw a figure move about thirty yards away. Putting her rifle to her shoulder she fired. Smiling at the startled yelp that greeted her shot, Faith worked the lever of her rifle and was just in time to see a horde of figures materialise out of the bush. Yelling and whooping wildly the warriors charged towards her. Aiming into the middle of the crowd Faith started to fire steadily at the approaching warband, her predator’s smile getting wider with each Indian that fell.

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	7. Chapter 7

7.

“Major Cardwell!”

Turning as he stood up, Albert saw Captain Brittles looking at him, he didn’t look particularly happy.

“Oh dear,” Albert muttered under his breath, “what now?”

“Major Cardwell,” Brittles strode over to where Albert was feeding fresh rounds into his rifle. “While I appreciate that you’re not directly under my command, I would appreciate it if you…”

“Captain Brittles, Sir!” the trooper’s call prevented Albert from finding out what the good Captain would appreciate.

Annoyed at being interrupted, Captain Brittles turned from Albert and looked over to where a number of troopers were crouched around another man who was lying on the ground. Dismissing Albert from his mind for the moment he walked briskly over to the wounded man.

“Help him up,” someone said as three troopers helped the injured man to his feet.

“Corporal Quayne, Sir,” the hatless and injured corporal saluted his officer, “reporting with Snake River patrol…Indians jumped us at sundown…”

“It was Red Shirt himself, Captain,” cried an Irish trooper who’d been part of the patrol, “the black-hearted, gut eatin’…”

“Quiet McCarthy! Silence in the ranks!” cried Corporal Quayne, “I’m making this report.”

“Easy, Mike, easy,” whispered one of the men that was holding Quayne up.

“They had us ringed at night, Sir,” Quayne continued after his outburst. “we got away; made it to the relief point, but you weren’t there, Sir.”

“I wanted to be, Corporal, I wanted to be,” Brittles replied sadly, “Proceed.”

“They flushed us at dawn, Sir,” Quayne’s voice was getting weaker as he gestured to the wound in his shoulder, “and I got this.”

“Good clear report, Corporal,” Brittles nodded his head slowly; “it’ll help you make sergeant in a year or two.” Brittles turned to his bugler, “Sound for the wagon, good work men! We’ll get you a little whiskey Quayne,” he called as Quayne was helped away, “make you feel better.”

“I’m sorry about your man,” Albert walked up behind Brittles.

“Thank-you, Major,” Brittles stared off in the direction the Indians had taken; Albert wondered if he was regretting not shooting a few of the tribesman.

“What do you intend to do now?” Albert asked.

“We’ll march on to Sudrow’s Wells,” Brittles turned to watch the wagon with the doctor aboard as it galloped up from the front of the column. “We’ll march all night if we have to; reach Sudrow’s Wells by dawn with luck.”

0=0=0=0

It was getting on for evening as great black thunder clouds started to fill the sky. Brittles had ordered the troop to lead their horses so the doctor could operate on Quayne’s injury without having to halt the column. Albert knew from personal experience that the Captain couldn’t risk stopping the troop so the doctor could work on the man. If he did the chances were that when they reached Sudrow’s Wells, Sergeant Tyree and his men would be dead. Of Faith’s safety, Albert wasn’t too concerned. His slayer was a resourceful young woman, who was well armed and well mounted, he was confident that she’d survive any disaster, at least that’s what he told himself. If anything did happen to her he’d never forgive himself.

To keep his mind off Faith’s fate, Albert spent his time watching Olivia Dandridge. She appeared to be splitting her time equally between the two young Lieutenants, only working her will on Captain Brittles so as he’d let her move freely around the column. After each visit from the girl, Lieutenants Cohill and Pennell appeared more ill-at-ease and distracted. Albert wondered if the girl knew what he was doing, or was this deliberate? Perhaps this was all part of a plot to disorganise the troop and make it an easy target for Walks-by-Night.

Now there was a thing, Albert smiled wryly, Walks-by-Night; looking up at the angry clouds, Albert noticed how dark it was getting. If Walks-by-Night was a vampire, which seemed more than likely, he’d be able to roam abroad soon, if he hadn’t left his lair already. Another wave of worry washed over Albert as he thought about Faith, not only would she have to deal with ordinary savages, she’d have to be on the look out for the demon Indian as well.

0=0=0=0

After Faith had broken their first rush, more or less single headedly, the Indians had surrounded the post and were now sniping at the small cavalry force. Surprisingly, Tyree had not set up his defence in the house. When she thought about it Faith could see why not. The building hadn’t been built with defence in mind; there were too many blind spots for the seven of them to cover. The walls weren’t really thick enough to stop bullets plus the dry wood of the building would be too easy to set on fire.

Instead, Tyree had set up a perimeter around the coral, here they could prevent the Indians running off the horses and they actually had better cover than if they’d been in the house. The corral was constructed out of stones that rose to about two feet above the desert floor, set into the stones was a fence that rose another four feet above the stone wall. By making scrapes behind the wall the defenders were safe enough against the Indian’s fire.

Taking advantage of a lull in the firing, Faith ran over to B and took a couple of spare boxes of ammunition from her saddle bags. Crouching low she ran swiftly back to the shelter of the wall and started to fill the empty cartridge loops on her gun belt, any spare rounds went into her jacket pockets. Looking up at a sound she saw Sergeant Tyree crawl across the sand towards her.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, you?” 

“I’m fine,” the sergeant smiled in the darkness, “no one’s been hit so far an’ Captain Brittles will be here in the morning.”

“Ya think?” Faith wasn’t so sure.

“Captain Brittles’ will be here,” Tyree reaffirmed, “um, I was wonderin’, ma’am,” Tyree took off his hat and looked around nervously.

Oh-my-god, thought Faith, he’s gonna ask me out to the dance or something; Faith needn’t have worried.

“I was wondering, ma’am, if you wouldn’t mind looking after the children,” Sergeant Tyree looked at Faith hopefully, “y’know, ma’am a woman’s touch an’all.”

“What the…!” Faith gasped in surprise, “...what do I have to do to show ya people that I’m not some helpless fee-male, huh?”

“But…”

“Who’s killed more injuns than the rest of ya put together?” Faith demanded.

“Well…um.”

“An’ another thing,” Faith snapped, “I hate kids, the only touch they’d get outta me would be when I snap their scrawny necks!” Faith took a deep breath. “Here,” Faith thrust her rifle into Tyree hands, “look after this,” she took a handful of spare shells and dropped them into Tyree’s hat, “now I’m goin’ to go out there an’ kill something!”

Before Tyree could do or say anything to stop her, Faith had climbed between the fence rails and disappeared into the night.

“Better watch out boys,” Tyree called softly, “that there, Marshal Faith has gone out to kill herself some more Indians, watch out fer her when she comes a’running back.”

0=0=0=0

Crawling on her belly between the sage brush, Faith froze in place as she felt the presence of another body lying in the dark close by. It was like she could feel his body heat on her own skin, it was nothing like the cold clammy feeling she got from being close to a vamp. Grinning to herself, she drew her newly acquired knife from its sheath and moved silently towards the body heat.

The Indian brave didn’t stand a chance, Faith was on him with her hand across his mouth before he even realised he was in danger. Running the edge of the knife across the brave’s throat, Faith listened to the blood gurgle and spurt from his neck. The brave’s struggles got weaker and weaker as he quickly lost his life’s blood and died. Releasing her hold on the man, Faith took a moment to wipe the blade on the Indian’s shirt before turning to find her next target.

The next Indian to fall pray to the slayer was either more experienced or more alert than the first. He managed to roll onto his back and even started to bring his rifle to bear as Faith pounced on him from out of the dark. Frantically the Indian tried to fight off Faith’s grasping hands while he attempted to pluck his own knife from his belt. Pulling a hand free, Faith punched the Indian across the jaw, his head flicked back and he groaned. Raising her knife, she was just about to plunge it into the native’s throat when he suddenly came around again.

His hand shot up and caught hold of Faith’s knife hand, he struggled hard for his life but Faith’s superior strength forced the knife closer and closer to the man’s throat. By now he had both hands on Faith’s wrist but it did him no good. He couldn’t cry out for help as Faith’s free hand was clamped over his mouth. Sitting on the Indian’s chest she inexorably pressed down on the tribesman’s arms. She saw the look of panic in the man’s eyes as he saw the knife get closer and closer, she saw the tears of fear and frustration run down his cheeks as the tip of the knife pricked against his throat.

Suddenly, Faith fell forward a little as her knife slipped easily into the man’s throat; warm blood welled up and splashed over her hand as her blade sliced through the major arteries in his neck. Feeling the Indian go limp under her hand, Faith relaxed for a moment and sat back to look at her victim. She frowned; it seemed like, at the end, he’d just given up and stopped fighting. Shaking her head in disgust, she was sure she’d never do that. No matter how hopeless a situation might seem, Faith felt certain she’d keep fighting until the bitter end. Climbing off the dead Indian, Faith paused to listen; she heard nothing, no one crawling through the sage to take her my surprise. No sound of gentle breathing as someone took a bead on her, grinning like a wolf, Faith crawled off into the night looking for more victims.

Her next target tuned out to be two tribesmen lying close together almost within touching range of each other. Smiling evilly, Faith had a malicious thought; wouldn’t it be funny to kill one without the other noticing and leave the other one alive to find his buddy dead in the morning? Moving like a ghost, Faith came up behind her intended target unnoticed. Reaching out of the dark, she clamped her hand across the man’s mouth and pulled his head back to expose his throat. Once again her knife passed over the man’s throat easily cutting the skin and muscle. Feeling him jerk and struggle for a moment, Faith held on until she was sure he was dead before gently letting go of his head, lying him down and quietly creeping off into the night once more.

Lying behind a sage bush, Faith took a moment to think about what she should do next. While it was great fun to creep about in the dark like this she knew that her luck was bound to run out eventually. At some point she was bound to step on a twig of trip on a stone; one of the Indians would hear her and the game would be over. She’d seen it happen time and time again in the westerns she’d watched so long ago, it was almost inevitable. Thinking hard, Faith wondered what she could do that would hurt the bad guys the most? The thought came to her as thunder boomed in the distance, the horses! If she chased off the Indian’s horses they wouldn’t be able to run away, so when the cavalry turned up tomorrow they’d be able to ride the bastards down and slaughter them!

Pleased with her new plan, Faith set about finding the Indian’s horses. Standing up behind her bush she took in a deep breath through her nose. Yes, she smiled; she could smell the horses close by; moving at a dead run between the rocks and bushes, she made her way towards the Indian’s ponies. Every now and then she stopped to sniff at the night air to make sure she was on the right track. Eventually she came to a narrow gulch where an Indian guarded the ponies.

Running silently up behind the guard, Faith once more wrapped her arm across the guards face and clamped her hand over his mouth. Ramming her knife into the guard’s back she felt his body stiffen for a moment before it went limp and started to drag on her arms. Laying the body on the desert sand she saw that the guard had been a boy, barely a teenager; Faith shrugged and wondered if he’d joined in the torture and gang rape of Mrs Sudrow.

Turning back towards the horses, Faith was just in time to see something silver flash towards her face. Her lightning fast slayer reactions allowed her to bring up her own knife and parry the blow. For a moment the two knife blades were locked together as she fought off the unexpected attack Faith got a good look at her attacker. He was a big Indian in a red shirt. He wore a sort of breast plate made out of bones and beads. Faith remembered Albert saying this was often some type of magical protection.

Grinning as she pushed the Indian away, Faith thought that it wouldn’t help him now. Stepping forward she stabbed the Indian in the belly, twisting the blade as she withdrew it; she stood to one side expecting the Indian to fall to the ground. Much to her confusion he didn’t. He stood for a moment with his hand clamped over the wound. For a second Faith could see the blood ooze slowly between his fingers. The next thing she knew was the blood stopped oozing, the Indian stood up straight and smiled nastily at her.

“Oh fuck!” Faith fearing the worst, she stepped forward and slashed her knife across the Indian’s throat; once again the tribesman staggered back from the attack, but this time Faith could actually see the wound closing.

Before she could fully recover from her shock, the Indian gave a loud whoop and sprang at her and very soon she found herself fighting for her life. After parrying the first couple of attacks, Faith realised that it didn’t mater how often she stabbed this guy he was still coming after her. Trying desperately to work out what she was facing Faith forgot that the Indian was making a hell of a lot of noise and his friends would be here soon.

Smashing the hilt of her knife into the Indian’s face, Faith watched in satisfaction as he went down. However, he soon got back to his feet, but not before Faith’d turned tail and ran off into the night. Unfortunately she’d only gone a few yards when she ran full speed into another Indian who’d come to see what all the fuss was about. Ripping open his belly with a savage upward stroke of her knife, Faith dodged around the slowly collapsing body only to feel the presence of more Indians moving towards her.

Swapping her knife into her left hand, Faith pulled her revolver from its holster. The time had come to finish her little adventure for the night. Time to head on back to the ranch. Running between the bushes back towards the staging post Faith had shot down two more braves before she felt a rifle bullet whistle past her ear from the direction of the post.

“HOLD YA FIRE!” Yelled Faith as she pounded across the sand towards the corral, “MARSHAL LEHANE COMING IN!”

The fence surrounding the coral loomed up in front of her; without breaking stride she leaped over the barrier and stumbled to a halt on the other side. Suddenly she found herself being held up by Sergeant Tyree.

“I hope that teaches you a lesson,” the Sergeant said with and air of satisfaction.

“Y’what?” Faith pushed herself away from the man.

“The night's no place fer a woman when there’s Indians about,” Tyree stepped away from her when he saw she’d regained her balance.

“WHAT!?” Faith barely held on to her temper, “I got at least six of ‘em!” she told the sergeant’s back as he walked away, “what do I have to do for ya people…”

In frustration, Faith turned and emptied her pistol into the darkness, the cry of an Indian being hit by one of her wildly fired bullets made her feel marginally better.

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	8. Chapter 8

8.

Lightning flashed in great forks that split the night sky to the accompaniment of thunder that rumbled and crashed, however, it didn’t rain. Some time after midnight the Indians gave up on their sniping and occasional attempts at rushing the perimeter and the night settled down into an uneasy silence. Faith lay in her scrape behind the rough wall of stones, her hat pulled low over her face and the collar of her sheepskin jacket turned up against the cold.

As she lay there she tried to work out their chances of survival for the following day. If Captain Brittles arrived in the morning with the rest of the column they should be alright…as long as he arrived soon after dawn. Tyree hadn’t said anything, no doubt he didn’t want to worry the helpless, little woman that he seemed convinced she was, but Faith knew that ammunition was starting to be an issue. She’d used up most of the spare rounds in her pockets and soon she’d be down to those in the loops on her gun belt. Once those had gone it would be knives, fists and teeth.

For herself, Faith wasn’t worried but if the Indians came that would be it for the cavalry troopers and what ever she might say about the kids she didn’t want to see them killed. No, if they could hold on until the column arrived everything would be fine, she’d killed more than her fair share of tribesmen. As long as they hadn’t been reinforced or that indestructible Indian didn’t take it into his head to just walk into camp and kill them all they should all survive. Wondering why he didn’t do just that, Faith felt her eyelids start to close, she fought against it for a while but eventually her eyes closed, even slayers had to sleep.

0=0=0=0

Jerking awake at the sound of the ragged cheer, Albert wondered what was going on. Looking around he noticed the complete absence of savage hordes swooping down to destroy the column. Shaking his head and massaging his eyes he decided that he was getting too old for this kind of game he really ought to think of doing a job that involved sitting in comfortable chairs with a good cigar and a glass of whiskey in his hand. He smiled to himself; falling asleep in the saddle was a job for a younger man.

But what about Faith? She was old for a slayer; he’d only had a vague idea at her actual age. A gentleman didn’t ask a lady curtain questions and Faith was a lady despite her swearing and rather forthright views on sex and well, just about everything. He guessed her age at twenty or twenty-one which was definitely ‘old age’ for a slayer, most girls didn’t last much past their eighteenth birthday. If he was going to retire then Faith should too, the other slayer was still alive and active in Russia and no doubt when she died another girl would be chosen so why did Faith need to keep fighting and risking her life.

The answer came to him like the flashes of lightning that arced above his head, she kept fighting because she enjoyed it. If there ever came a day when she stopped enjoying it that would be the day that she’d stop. It would also be the day he’d stop being her watcher and become her…her what? Frowning to himself Albert wondered what he’d do then. He couldn’t simply cut Faith loose as no doubt the council would, they’d have no quarms about casting her penniless into an uncaring world, Albert would never let that happen. He had a private income (what officer in Her Majesty’s service didn’t, Army pay was appalling), he’d look after her he’d…

“Steady on old chap,” he said to himself when he realised where these thoughts were leading, “Marry Faith? No, no, no old chap,” he admonished himself, “that can never be…”

“What can never be?”

Starting out of his confused thinking, Albert looked around and saw he’d ridden up next to the surgeon’s wagon where Mrs Allshard sat on the tailgate.

“Ma’am?” Albert replied as he touched the brim of his hat to the woman.

“I said,” Abby Allshard reiterated, “what can never be, Major?”

“Oh nothing of any importance, dear lady,” Albert tried to laugh her question off.

“If that’s how you look when it’s nothing of any importance,” Abby smiled, “I’d hate to think what you’d look like when it is something really pressing.”

“No, Mrs Allshard I assure you,” Albert smiled reassuringly, “I just had a foolish thought, but good sense made me see where such thoughts could lead.”

“I see,” Abby Allshard nodded her head totally unconvinced by Albert’s explanation.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Albert decided to try and change the subject, “I believe Miss Dandridge is your niece?”

“My sister’s oldest girl,” Abby nodded, “Sarah, my sister, married a fella back east before I married Mac…I married late you see, that’s why Mac and myself have no children.”

“Indeed,” Albert smiled and nodded his head; once again he wondered at the American insistence on giving you their entire life story at your first meeting. “And your sister and her husband are still alive…hmm ‘out east’?”

“Well,” Abby Allshard glanced down to where the sage brush rolled slowly by the wagon, “Sarah’s husband, Arthur, had some bad luck with his business you see, he was in the railroad business…”

Nodding his head and smiling, Albert let Abby carry on knowing that eventually she’d tell him something useful.

“…anyway,” Abby continued, “between you and me he didn’t leave her very well provided for. That’s why I told her to send Olivia out to me for a year, let her get things sorted out…”

“Uh-huh,” Albert nodded his head sympathetically.

So, the husband had some bad luck on the stock markets, instead of doing the right thing by his family the coward blew his brains out leaving his wife and children almost penniless. Complete lack of moral fibre, Albert told himself angrily. Then when the childless sister offers to take her oldest daughter off her hands for a year this Sarah woman jumps at the chance. After instructing her daughter in the black arts to enable her to snare an unsuspecting officer for a husband!

“Excuse me, Mrs Allshard,” Albert interrupted the woman as she was detailing the faults of her dear sister’s late and, for Abby Allshard at least, unlamented husband. “But would you happen to know if your sister had any interest in the occult or mysticism?”

“What a strange question,” Abby Allshard looked up at Albert in surprise, but there was something behind her eyes that told Albert that he was on to something. “Well, I don’t know about the occult,” Abby’s voice dropped to almost a whisper, “but I do know my sister was visiting a medium quite regularly. Trying to contact our dear father you know?”

“Indeed I do,” Albert nodded, wheels turned within wheels in his mind.

Mystics where one step away from the dark arts in his experience. No doubt this Sarah woman only had the good of her daughter in mind. But, in the process she’d endangered both her daughter’s and her own soul. He wasn’t a particularly religious man, he liked to think of himself as a ‘rationalist’, but he was convinced that a person had a soul. Call it morality or a moral compass or what you would, it could still be stolen or wrapped by the forces of evil. This foolish woman must have given her daughter either a charm or taught her some spell, a love spell to boot. Love spells could be the most dangerous of spells; they could drive people to murder or make them perform acts so depraved and unspeakable that he wouldn’t even speak of them to himself!

“Excuse me, Mrs Allshard,” Albert raised his hat, “this has been a most enlightening conversation, but now I must go…I see Captain Brittles is signalling for me to come to the head of the column.”

Giving the strange English Major a smile and a wave, Abby watched him trot off towards the front of the column.

“What an odd man,” Abby said quietly to herself, his face had been as dark as the sky above when he’d ridden off, “Poor man,” Abby shook her head, “he must be worried about that Marshal girl.”

Smiling to herself having found a reason for Albert’s dark mood, Abby climbed back into the wagon proper to check on Corporal Quayne.

0=0=0=0

A spell or a charm, Albert pondered as he cantered towards the front of the column. If it was a charm, he’d have Faith take it from Miss Dandridge. If it was a spell…well, if it was a spell that would be several times more difficult to deal with; first he’d have to find out which particular love spell had been used then he’d have to find a way of breaking it, if there was indeed a way of breaking this specific spell. There was also the nagging worry that the spell could not be broken at least not completely. Those were the most horrible of all often leaving their victims either helpless slaves of the caster or mere shadows of their former selves having been rejected.

Why did people play with things that they didn’t understand, he asked himself. The Dandridge girl was an attractive young woman, charming in her own, backwoods, American way. She’d have no trouble finding a suitable husband, either of the two Lieutenants on the post would make a fine match for the penniless girl; Mr Pennell came from a rich family, while Mr Cohill had the makings of a fine career officer. Albert knew which man he’d prefer his daughter, had he got one, to marry. This didn’t mean that there was anything wrong with Mr Pennell.

Shaking his head more in sorrow than anger, Albert found himself near the head of the column. Reining in his horse, he turned in his saddle and looked back along the line of troopers. There was no sign of Olivia Dandridge, which meant she was at the rear of the column with Mr Pennell and by the look on Mr Cohill’s face there was going to be trouble.

“Damn it all!” Albert muttered to himself, “God save us from meddlesome mothers.”

Turning back to his front, Albert noticed that the sky had got a lot lighter while he’d been puzzling over the problem that was Olivia Dandridge. It must be near dawn, the sky was still completely clouded over but Albert guessed he could tell a white thread from a black, the old Muhammadan method of defining dawn.

They were riding up a slope between two great mountain sized piles of rock when the slight breeze brought the sound of gunfire to Albert’s ears. A galloper rode up to Captain Brittles at the front of the column. They exchanged words for a moment then as soon as they’d finished speaking, Brittles called forward the first two set of fours and galloped off leaving Mr Cohill in command of the column. Albert, not wishing to be left behind, put his heels to his horse and galloped off in pursuit.

0=0=0=0

First light brought a ragged volley from the Indians hiding in the bush around the corral. Faith ducked down, clutching her rifle as bullets whistled over her head. After the first burst of firing there was a pause as the Indians reloaded their single shot rifles, taking the opportunity given, Faith peered over her barricade and brought her rifle to her shoulder.

The Indians started to fire again, Faith had little fear of being shot deliberately, tribesmen, wherever they came from, were notoriously bad shots. There was a chance she might be hit by accident but she wouldn’t worry about that if it meant she could shoot back. Aiming at a cloud of white smoke that gave away an Indian’s position, Faith fired twice in rapid succession. Smiling she watched at an Indian slumped to the ground from behind the bush he’d been using as cover. Just as she was congratulating herself and looking for a new target she felt someone pull on her boot; turning she came face to face with Sergeant Tyree.

“You better save your rounds for when the injuns get closer, ma’am,” the soldier advised.

“What ya mean?” Faith demanded, was this asshole implying she couldn’t shoot straight?

“I mean,” again the soldier had that pitying tone in his voice as if he was talking to a simpleton, “it’s no good firing wildly into the bushes hoping to hit something.”

“But…” Faith was almost speechless with rage, “...look!” she pointed wildly at the dead Indian brave, “I keep telling ya, I know what I’m doing, I’ve killed more of these bozos than the rest of ya have!”

“Of course you have ma’am,” Sergeant Tyree started to crawl away.

The only thing that stopped Faith from shooting the soldier was the certain knowledge that it would annoy Albert. He might even get cross with her again and she didn’t want that…all the ‘not talking’ put her on edge. Settling herself back into her firing position once more, Faith brought her rifle back up to her shoulder. Just as she was about to fire into a bush she was sure a red-skin was using as cover, she heard a bugle sounding in the distance. Suddenly every Indian seemed as if he was trying to fire off all his ammunition at once and then there was silence.

Cautiously Faith raised her head above the barricade, no fusillade of shots greeted her appearance, no Indians charged wildly towards her and certain death at her hands. She could only hear the sounds of galloping hooves and the continuous call of the bugle sounding the charge.

0=0=0=0

Pulling his horse up, Albert dismounted as he yanked his revolver from its holster. So far they’d received no fire but that could change at any moment. Looking around he saw the burnt out wreck of the stage and the still smouldering ruin of the long wooden building that made up the only habitation in the staging post. Cavalry troopers came to a stop all around him. Some collected up the horses and led them to the rear while others advanced through the post carbines at the ready.

Ignoring what the American army was doing, Albert searched the area urgently with his eyes. He saw B standing in the corral with the other horses looking no worse for wear. Just as he was turning to look for Faith he felt a young, firm body collide with his own with such force that he was nearly knocked off his feet.

“And I’m glad to see you too,” Albert smiled, as he disentangled herself from Faith’s embrace.

“Yeah,” Faith smiled self-consciously up at Albert, “good to see ya man.”

“Indeed,” Albert gave Faith a fatherly smile, “I was more than a little concerned for your safety. I even questioned my decision to send you with Sergeant Tyree.”

“Hey,” Faith shrugged, “don’t sweat it, I’m fine.”

“Yes you are,” Albert said rather more wistfully than he’d intended, he coughed to clear his throat of the lump that had suddenly appeared there. “Well, glad to find you well and safe old thing, anything to report.”

“Um,” Faith looked uncharacteristically disappointed for a second before her usual self-confident look reappeared, “Ya think indestructible injuns are worth reporting?”

“Oh, indeed,” Albert put his arm around Faith’s shoulder and led her towards the corral, “tell me more.”

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	9. Chapter 9

9.

“I’m really glad to see you Captain,” Sergeant Tyree stood in the middle of the corral as Captain Brittles dismounted close by.

“Sorry to be late, Tyree,” the grey haired Captain swung himself down from his horse, “Report.”

“War party sir,” Tyree replied crisply, “forty or fifty strong I’d say.”

“Well, that blows the lid,” Brittles pulled his riding gauntlets from his hands and slapped them against his thigh, “doesn’t it?” 

Just as he spoke he caught sight of the two young Sudrow children, he looked first at Tyree and then at the two blanket covered forms that lay on the sand close by.

“Ma and Pa Sudrow,” Tyree informed Brittles as the officer lifted the blanket to look at the bodies.

“Children see it?” Brittles replaced the blanket and turned away from the corpses.

“No, Sir,” replied Tyree, “they were hiding in the smoke house.”

“Tyree,” Brittles took off his hat and ran his hand over his hair, he sighed sadly, “I think it’s time I did retire…” after a moment he was back to being the veteran officer, “Casualties?”

“Just Corporal Smith, Sir,” Tyree informed him.

“Pity,” Brittles replaced his hat, “Smith was a good man…Miss Lehane alright?”

“She’s fine, Sir,” Tyree nodded his head and gave Brittles a wry smile, “to hear her talk about it, she won the battle all by herself.”

0=0=0=0

“So,” Albert watched as the rest of the column galloped into the staging post, “indestructible Indian’s, eh?”

“That’s what I said,” Faith stood next to Albert watching as the troopers dismounted and went about securing the post.

“Wouldn’t have been a fellow in a red shirt, would it?” Albert asked as he watched Abby Allshard dismount and make a bee line for the two Sudrow children.

“Yeah, how…?” began Faith only to be cut off by Albert’s tired sigh.

“Thought I’d bagged the blighter m’self earlier in the day, old thing,” Albert watched as Abby Allshard gathered the two children around her; giving a sad smile he guessed that Mrs Allshard had just found the children she’d missed out on having herself.

“Crap!” cursed Faith.

“Steady on old girl,” Albert gave her a crooked smile, “watch the language, gentleman present don’t-cha-know.”

“What?” Faith frowned at her watcher for a moment before realising she was having her leg pulled; she punched him gently on the arm.

“Anyway,” Albert rubbed his arm where Faith had punched him, “first things first, old girl. Let’s deal with things closer at hand before we worry too much about indestructible or vampire Indians.”

“The Dandridge, bitch,” Faith spat into the sand as her eyes sort out the young woman in question.

“I say, old thing,” Albert looked at his slayer in concern, “what’s the Dandridge girl done to you? You didn’t have designs on either of our two fine young officers, did you?”

“Jeez!” Faith looked at Albert as if he’d grown another head, “No-way man!”

“Then why, my dear girl,” Albert said teasingly, “has she come in for an extra large helping of your wrath?”

“Whatever,” Faith shifted uncomfortably, “she put the mojo on ya an’ I don’t like that…if anyone’s gonna put mojo on ya it’s gonna be me.”

“Oh,” Albert smoothed down his moustache, “I never thought you cared…OW!”

“Don’t take the piss, right?” Faith lowered her fist after punching Albert’s arm again.

“I swear I’ll be black and blue by the time this mission’s over,” Albert frowned at his charge and rubbed his arm again.

“So,” Faith ignored Albert’s complaint, “what ya gonna let me do to her?” Faith smiled eagerly, “Gonna let me slay her?”

“I think slaying may just be a tad too much for this situation,” a thoughtful look came over Albert’s face.

“Tad?” Faith frowned, “Tad? What the hell’s a ‘tad’? Can’t ya speak English, man?”

“I really thought I was,” Albert looked down at Faith, if he’d been wearing his glasses he’d have looked disapprovingly over the top of them at her; but he wasn’t so he didn’t. “No,” he continued after a moments thought, “I shall choose my moment and confront her with her evil ways.”

“That’s just before she turns ya inta a rat or somethin’, right?” Faith grinned.

“Oh, I don’t think it’ll come to that…” Albert thought about the possibility for a moment, “...if she does however, you have my full permission to slay her in anyway you see fit…after you’ve persuaded her to change me back of course.”

“Don’t sweat it, Albert,” Faith reassured her watcher, “you’ll be walking tall in no time, no problemo.”

“Jolly good,” Albert felt suitably reassured, “now then, let’s see what our good Captain Brittles has planned for us.”

0=0=0=0

Standing looking at the burnt out wreck of the stage coach, Olivia Dandridge didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad. So far the charm that her mother had given her had not worked as well as she’d hoped. Of course the two young officers were totally infatuated with her and she would have hoped that one of them would have proposed to her by now. But it hadn’t happened; so far the two young men had spent their time fighting amongst themselves over her affections. This was not how it was supposed to work.

“See to your troop, Mr Cohill,” Captain Brittles’ shout almost made Olivia jump out of her skin. “Mr Pennell, picket lines!”

“You don’t have to say it, Captain,” Olivia watched her hands play with her gloves as she spoke, “I know all this is because of me, how I wanted to see the west (and catch myself a husband, she added inwardly). Cos I wasn’t…I wasn’t...” Olivia dabbed at the faux tears in her eyes, “...'army' enough to stay the winter.”

Pulling on his gauntlets, Captain Brittles came over to stand next to Olivia.

“You’re not army yet,” he sighed, “or you’d know to never apologise, it’s a sign of weakness.”

“Yes,” insisted Olivia, knowing that the old Captain was infatuated with her too, “but this is your last patrol and I’m to blame for it being a failure.”

Again Olivia smiled when the old Captain looked down at his boots, she knew he’d never blame her for anything, he’d blame himself and she was right.

“Only the man who commands can be blamed,” Brittles explained, “It rests on me,” Brittles turned towards the burnt out stage. “Mission failure,” he walked over to the stage and kicked one of the burnt wheels, it fell causing the remains of the coach to collapse in a heap. “Well,” Brittles walked back over to Olivia and put his hand on her shoulder, “looks like we missed the stage Miss Dandridge.”

Watching as the captain walked away like the tired old man he really was, Olivia smirked at the knowledge that no blame would be placed on her. Now all she had to do was to get either Mr Cohill or Mr Pennell to propose marriage to her and she could let the charm’s spell slowly fade away. By the time it had dissipated she’d be married and there would be no turning back. Turning away from the burnt out coach, Olivia caught sight of Albert and Faith standing over by the corral.

“Now,” Olivia asked herself quietly, “I wonder what those two are plotting.”

It did indeed look as if the Englishman and his companion were plotting something. At first the English Major had been as infatuated with her as any of the other officers. But, something had happened and Olivia was sure it was something to do with that Marshal woman. Olivia didn’t like Faith; she considered her common and far too bawdy for genteel company. The young woman who had the audacity to claim she was some sort of law officer acted like a common street walker.

Somewhat disappointed, Olivia had always thought that all British officers were gentlemen, obviously she’d been wrong. She’d heard that Major Cardwell had spent most of his career in India, obviously the heat and the wanton native ways had warped his mind, what did they call it? Olivia thought hard for a moment; yes, that was it…going native. That was what they called it; no doubt this so called gentleman had a harem of voluptuous native girls at his beck and call back in India. As she turned to walk away Olivia paused and wondered for a moment at the true relationship between the American trollop and the English cad.

0=0=0=0

What Captain Brittles had in mind for his command turned out to be a day of rest. Both the horses and men were exhausted from a day and a night of hard riding. Faith sat on a boulder keeping an eye on Albert as he slept. Not feeling tired (she’d had a good three hours sleep the previous night) Faith split her time between cleaning her own and Albert’s gear as she watched over him and wandering around the camp listening to the muted conversations going on around the camp fires.

It was on one of her regular patrols around the camp that she overheard Sergeant Tyree laughing and joking quietly with Sergeant Quincannon and a couple of other NCO’s. At first Faith ignored him and walked on, until, that is, she heard her name mentioned. Tyree was telling his friends how she, Faith, was a deluded, silly girl who thought she was as good as a man. Faith never _thought_ she was as good as a man, she knew she was better!

He went on to tell his friends how Faith had claimed to have killed so many Indians that she’d won the fight all on her own without any help from the patrol. The men around the fire laughed at the foolish girl who thought she was a Marshal. They laughed at her claim that she’d killed at lest three Indian’s with her knife. Tyree admitted that she had spotted the first Indian attack after they’d arrived at the staging post. He even admitted that her rifle fire had forced the Indians to go to ground, but he couldn’t believe that she’d actually hit anything. After all it was a well known fact, women couldn’t hit the side of a barn with any type of firearm.

Instead of going over to the fire and beating the living crap out of Tyree, Faith turned on her heel and stormed off back to where Albert lay. Yes, she’d show that mindless jerk of a sergeant, she’d make him eat his words. Sitting down next to Albert’s sleeping form she glanced at her watcher, she’d do nothing just yet, she’d wait until later she really didn’t want to annoy Albert. Beating up dickwad sergeants would most certainly cause annoyance to her watcher so she’d keep her fists to herself.

As the day passed, Albert woke and started to take an interest in what was going on around the camp. The two of them watched as Captain Brittles sent out scouts. They watched with even more interest as the scouts came in and reported back to Brittles. After one particular scout had reported in Brittles had looked quite excited, he called over his two troop officers and asked if Albert would care to join them, Faith wasn’t invited.

0=0=0=0

“One of the scouts found wagon tracks, old thing,” Albert confided to Faith once he got back from his meeting with Brittles.

“So?” Faith toyed with her knife throwing up into the air and catching it again.

“The tracks were headed towards where they think the Indian’s have set up shop,” Albert explained, “the general consensus of opinion is that it’s a gun runner’s wagon…”

“Like I said before,” Faith grinned mischievously, “speak English will ya?”

“Look,” Albert gave a heavy sigh, “the upshot of this piece of news is we might be able to deal with both Red Shirt and this Walks-by-Night fellow tonight.”

“Cool,” Faith nodded her head.

“Yes I expect it will be,” Albert frowned, “but what has the temperature got to do with anything?”

0=0=0=0

Dusk had turned into night and the burial service for Corporal Smith had just been completed, when Olivia Dandridge walked back to the corral. She’d gone to relieve herself in the bushes outside the perimeter without any thought that she might have been killed or taken by the Indians, who were no doubt watching the camp.

“I wouldn’t go any further, if I were you,” Lieutenant Cohill stepped out of the shadows bringing Olivia to a surprised halt; she tried to ignore him and walk on but his words brought her to a halt again, “You’re almost across the foot lights now.”

Olivia looked at the young officer wondering what he was talking about.

“There’s probably a hundred hostiles out there now,” Cohill jerked his chin at the surrounding bush.

As if on cue a bird call sounded in the dark night, Olivia turned her head in the direction of the sound.

“Think that’s a real Whippoorwill?” Cohill asked with a smile at another bird call, this time cut short by a straggled cry, floated in on the air. “Come on,” he smiled kindly, “lets go back.”

“I’ll walk back alone,” Olivia turned to avoid Cohill’s offered hand as yet another night bird met an uncertain fate.

“Olivia,” Cohill’s call stopped the young woman in her tracks, the two young people gazed silently into each others eyes; the moment was spoilt when another Whippoorwill’s call turned into a sort of gargling cough, “I’m sorry, Olivia, for everything I’ve done or said, I know I have no right to ask…” yet another night bird met with a gristly end, “…but will you…”

Just at that moment Mr Pennell rode up after having checked on the pickets, he reined in, dismounted and walked purposefully over to the couple taking off his greatcoat as he did so.

“Right!” Pennell was down to his tunic by the time he reached Cohill and Olivia, “Let’s get this over with!”

“Are you crazy, Mister?” Cohill demanded as he watched Pennell start to unbutton his tunic.

“Don’t pull rank on me!” Pennell’s tunic was half undone by now, “You’ve been jealous ever since you saw that yellow ribbon Olivia was wearing for me!”

Stepping slightly away from the two officers, Olivia smiled in satisfaction, if they fought the winner would be bound to propose to her.

“Button up that shirt, Mister,” ordered Cohill.

“You can sneer all you want to,” snapped Pennell, “but keep your paws off my girl.”

“All right Mister,” Cohill started to take off his greatcoat, “I’ll accommodate you. Lets step over to the…”

“GENTLEMEN!” Albert stepped out of the night to confront the warring officers. “I had thought better of you two,” Albert said sadly, “if you were officers under my command I’d have you both cashiered for acting like two love struck schoolboys.” Albert shook his head in anger, “But you’re not under my command, which is lucky for you, so I want you to apologise to each other and shake hands; we’ll say no more about it.”

Chastened the two young men shook hands.

“Sorry, Flint.”

“Sorry, Ross.”

“Now,” Albert glared at the two lieutenants, “get on with whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.”

Watching as the two young men walked off into the night, Albert noticed Olivia trying to sneak away unseen.

“Not so fast, Miss Dandridge,” Albert pulled his revolver and thumbed back the hammer, “I’ve never shot a woman before,” he paused to reconsider his statement, “no I tell a lie, I haven’t shot a woman recently,” he held out his hand, “now hand it over!”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Olivia Dandridge did a good impression of a frightened young woman; but, Albert could see the cold calculations going on behind her pretty eyes.

“I know you have a charm or something that’ll focus that spell you’re working,” Albert announced, “so hand it over now or I’ll have Faith search you for it.”

“Damn-you,” Olivia snapped as she took the charm from around her neck; the thought of having that vulgar young woman lay hands on her was more frightening than the idea of being shot.

Albert took the charm in his hand, it was still warm from being close to Olivia’s breasts and he felt himself start to come under the young woman’s spell again. Quickly dropping the charm onto a handy stone he crushed it with his boot heel. As he did so he noticed how Olivia’s skin appeared to glow less radiantly than it had; how her hair appeared to shine less silkily. The way her breasts weren’t quite as large and firm looking as they had been just a moment before. There was no mistake, Olivia Dandridge was still a very attractive young woman, she just seemed less perfect somehow.

“Right then,” Albert carefully released the hammer on his pistol and replaced it in holster, “off you go and apologise to those two fine young men for leading them on so. Then marry one of them, if you’ll take my advice it’ll be Mr Cohill.”

Watching as Olivia scurried back to camp, Albert was just about to go back to camp himself when he saw Faith come in from the bush her bloody knife in one hand and four severed heads in her other.

“Oh, Faith,” Albert smiled, “you shouldn’t have!”

“These ain’t for you,” Faith walked on passed her watcher.

“Don’t tell me,” cried Albert in mock disappointment, “you have heads for someone else?” he sighed in fake despair, “And there was I thinking you loved only me!”

0=0=0=0


	10. Chapter 10

10.

“So,” Albert swung himself up into the saddle, “how did Sergeant Tyree like his presents?”

“Screamed like a girl,” Faith smiled smugly at the memory.

Sitting side by side on their horses, slayer and watcher shared a quiet chuckle as Sergeant Tyree came out of the dark to join the mounted party. He gave Faith a fearful glance as he brought his horse to a halt next to Captain Brittles. The Captain, for his part, looked from the sergeant to the girl and tried to suppress the smile that threatened to spread across his face. He urged his horse over to stand next to Faith.

“I heard about the little…” Brittles paused to choose his words carefully, “…presents you gave Tyree,” he glanced over at the NCO before leaning closer to Faith, “I for one am heartily sorry for doubting your, shall we say, expertise? But I think you’ve made your point now so I’d be grateful if you didn’t scare the be-jeezus outta my sergeants.”

Tipping his hat to Faith, Captain Brittles rode to the front of the little party and signalled it to move off into the night.

“You have the troop Mr Cohill,” he called quietly as they rode past the young officer.

0=0=0=0

The little party rode through the night until they came to a large area of giant, tumbled rocks. Urging their horses on they threaded their way between the boulders until they could see the glow that came from a number of camp fires somewhere up ahead. Quietly dismounting they left the horses in the care of Brittles’ bugler and silently worked their way forward on foot.

Moving as only a slayer could, Faith clutched her rifle and lay down behind a natural barricade. As she watched the Indian camp in front of her, she heard Albert and the rest of the party come into position beside her. Below them, in the camp, a swarm of Indians gathered around the back of a wagon. In the wagon bed stood a white-man in a warm jacket and fancy tooled leather gloves. He appeared to be giving a sales pitch, translated by the old Indian who stood next to him, about the rifles the Indian warriors were examining. Smiling to herself, Faith wondered why the man was bothering; he’d made the sale by the eager looks on the warrior’s faces.

“Mr Rynders,” Brittles whispered just loud enough to be heard over the excited whoops of the Indians in the camp, “Indian Agent, my foot!”

Obviously Mr Rynders was more than just an Indian Agent. No doubt unsatisfied with swindling the Indians out of what was rightfully theirs he’d gone into the rifle business when the Indians had decided to seek redress. Faith concentrated on what was going on in the camp as Rynders and an Indian sitting on a horse appeared to have got to the bargaining part of the meeting.

“He says fifty dollars too much,” the Indian translator told Rynders.

“Too much, huh?” Rynders hitched up his gun belt and glanced at his side-kick, “Tell that grandson of a horse thief that I know he’s got the money form the paymaster’s wagon. Tell him I know he killed Major Cheadle and tell him its fifty dollars or no rifles!”

The translator started to translate as the Indian sat on his horse impassively. The translator was about half way through his little speech when the Indian leader lifted up his bow and shot him. The old Indian clutched at the arrow in his chest as he fell slowly from the back of the wagon. Indian braves whooped with excitement as they grabbed hold of Rynders and dragged him from the wagon. Other Indians jumped up into the wagon and started to heave boxes of rifles and ammunition out onto the ground. The boxes split open to reveal brand new Henry repeaters. The weapons were snatched up by eager Indian hands that started to load them with the bullets taken from the ammunition boxes.

A shot rang out as one of Rynders’ fellow gunrunners was shot down as he tried to escape into the night. Another white-man was taken by a mob of excited Indians: they dragged him over to one of the camp fires and threw him into the flames. The man screamed as he staggered through the fire only to be caught by Indians standing on the other side and thrown back into the fire again.

“Let this be a lesson to you Faith, my girl,” Albert spoke as if he was explaining the finer points of cricket. “If you ever have occasion to sell arms to savages, always hide the ammunition before you go in to make the sale. That way the tribesmen won’t be tempted to steal your goods and kill you, and only ever give the location of the ammunition after you’re sure you’re safe.”

“Thanks,” Faith replied as she watched the wagon driver being thrown back into the fire for the sixth time. “Hey look,” Faith pointed to the mounted Indian.

Having been pulled from the back of the wagon, Rynders was dragged over to the mounted Indian by several pairs of strong arms. The Indians held Rynders firmly in front of their mounted leader. The mounted Indian reached down from his horse, took Rynders firmly by the front of his shirt and lifted him into the air. There were gasps of surprise from Brittles, Pennell and Tyree as they watched Rynders being pulled ever upwards.

Effortlessly the Indian pulled Rynders up so his neck was level with his mouth. That was when Faith saw the Indian’s face change. The Indian pulled the struggling gunrunner towards him and bit into his neck. Rynders screamed as the Indians renewed their whoops of joy. For a moment the smouldering, burn wreck of a man who’d been the wagon driver was forgotten. He dragged himself away from the Indians pulling himself along on raw, claw-like hands. Putting her rifle to her shoulder, Faith shot the man putting him out of his misery; no one noticed another gunshot with all the of wild firing the Indians where doing.

“Oh my god!” gasped Brittles as he watched the mounted Indian drink Rynders’ blood.

“It would appear,” Albert announced calmly, “that we have found, Walks-by-Night.”

“And lookie there,” Faith pointed, “there’s that Red-Shirt jerk.”

“Indeed,” agreed Albert ignoring the shocked comments from the three cavalrymen, “Now how do you want to handle this, my girl?”

“I’ll hide up here ‘till dawn,” Faith explained quickly, “I’ll find out where the fang boy lays up during the day. Sneak in and stake him while he’s sleeping.”

“Sounds like a sound plan to me,” Albert agreed, “do you want me to wait with you?”

“Nah,” Faith shook her head, “I’d worry about you, might put me off my game.”

“Oh Faith,” Albert grinned at her in the dark, “you say the sweetest things, you really worry about me?”

“Sure,” Faith started to check her weapons, “if you got y’self killed I’d have ta break in a whole new watcher.”

“Are you suggesting that Miss Lehane,” Brittles looked at Albert in genuine shock, “stay here by herself and fight that…that…monster!”

By now Walks-by-Night had finished his meal and had discarded Rynders’ body. Obviously he was saving the surviving gunrunner for later.

“Indeed I am,” Albert told the American officer in a tone that brooked no argument, “This is what Marshal Lehane does, Captain. It is her calling; women like her have been protecting the human race from creatures like that since the dawn of time. I suggest we leave and let her get on with her work.”

“But…” the look on Brittles’ face was one of pure outrage, young women just did not fight blood sucking monsters in his world; it went against everything he’d been taught and believed. In fact his reaction was exactly the same as Albert’s had been when he’d found out about the things that walked at night and the women and girls who were called on to fight them.

“I’m glad to see it disgusts you,” Albert told the older man, “come with me and let Faith get on with her work, I’ll try and explain everything as we go.”

Reluctantly, Brittles crawled away from the barricade, while Albert waited to exchange a few words with Faith.

“You have everything you need?” Albert asked quietly.

“Sure,” Faith grinned wishing all the time her watcher would get himself to safety, “I can whittle a stake while I wait f’dawn.”

“Right-ho then,” as usual Albert was reluctant to leave his slayer to fight alone, “look after yourself. You should be able to pick up the column in the morning; I expect we’ll be heading back to the fort.”

“Sure thing,” the grin left Faith’s face as she looked up into her watchers sad eyes, she could tell he wanted to stay; but he knew he had to go, he’d only slow her down. “Don’t sweat it, man. I’ll have that jerk dusted no problems.”

“See that you do, my girl,” Albert’s speech was back to its usual clipped, business-like tone, as usual he held out his hand to Faith, “good luck old thing.”

Normally, Faith would ignore the hand and hug her watcher because she knew it embarrassed him, but not tonight. Instead she took hold of Albert’s hand and shook it firmly, strangely it was her who was feeling embarrassed, she let go of his hand.

“Get outta here, will ya?” Faith turned her face away so he wouldn’t see her eyes that shone in the reflected firelight.

Without another word, Albert disappeared into the night, he made so little noise even Faith’s sharp ears could hardly hear him. Getting herself comfortable, she settled down to watch the Indian camp. Sniffing and wiping at her eyes Faith laughed quietly to herself; getting all emotional like that over Albert. Shaking her head in disgust at herself she accused herself of getting like Buffy, all soft and tearful over her watcher. Albert was a murderous fighter, he could look after himself, there was no need for her to worry about him. She sighed quietly, perhaps, she thought, she was getting all hormonal, maybe it was her ‘time of the month’? Yes, she told herself, that’s what it must be, her hormones were out of whack…there was nothing to worry about, she wasn’t getting soft.

0=0=0=0

The Indian’s celebrations lasted for another hour or so. Slowly some order was brought to the camp; spare rifles were collected up, ammunition was stowed away and the warriors started to disperse into the night. Surprisingly quickly the only Indians left in the camp were, Walks-by-Night, Red-Shirt and half a dozen other Indians who appeared to be Walks-by-Night’s closest advisers.

Wishing that she understood ‘Indian’, Faith listened in as she whittled a stake made from the branch of a nearby tree. Even if she couldn’t understand the language, she could tell there was an argument going on. Probably about how to deal with the cavalry column. The Indian’s voices got louder as the argument got more heated. For a moment Faith wondered if she could shoot the normal Indian’s and then get down there and stake the vampire Indian before he got away. Then she remembered Red-Shirt the seemingly indestructible Indian; she’d have to wait until after he’d ridden out before she could do anything about the vamp.

Eventually the meeting broke up; Walks-by-Night had won the argument my simply breaking the neck of his chief opponent. Suddenly all the other Indians were seeing things his way and left the camp leaving Walks-by-Night and Red-Shirt by themselves. Watching closely, Faith, wriggled along the barricade until she had an unobstructed view of the two bad guys.

Chanting as he danced around Red-Shirt, Walks-by-Night sprinkled the other Indian with some powder that reminded Faith of Christmas tree glitter. Trying to remember the sounds Walks-by-Night was making; Albert would want a full account of the ritual, Faith concentrated hard and found herself staring right into Walks-by-Night’s eyes. The blood froze in her veins. How could she have been so stupid staring at him like that? Even normal people can feel when they were being spied on, vampires more so.

Walking slowly away from Red-Shirt, Walks-by-Night appeared to be looking right at the spot where Faith was hiding. Closing her eyes, Faith slowed her breathing and fought to stop her heart from pounding so loudly. Opening her eyes just a crack, Faith saw the vampire stare up into the rocks for a moment before shaking his head and turning away. He walked over to Red-Shirt, slapped him on the arm and exchanged a few words. Red-Shirt laughed, turned and leapt onto his horse. Waving his new rifle in the air he yelled some sort of warcry before galloping off into the night.

Relaxing a little, Faith listened as Red-Shirt’s horse galloped away; she had no wish for the indestructible Indian to come up behind her while she was trying to deal with the vamp-Indian. It sounded like Red-Shirt was going off to join the main party of braves, probably to organise an attack on the column. Faith wished she could be there to help fight the Indian’s off, but she had more important fish to fry.

Jumping aboard his horse, Walks-by-Night slowly rode out of the deserted camp. Cursing quietly to herself, Faith crawled away from the barricade and went in search of her own horse. She’d really hoped that the vamp had a lair close by, but it looked like she would have to follow him now. Not that she was frightened of losing him in the dark; she could track him no matter how dark the night was. What she was worried about was the chance that the vamp would hear B as she made her way over the rocks and through the bush. B was a well trained horse, but she was still a horse and could make a noise at almost any time.

0=0=0=0

It was nearly dawn when Walks-by-Night got to the foot of the cliffs. Hanging back, Faith watched as the Indian dismounted and started to walk up a narrow path across the face of the precipice. Surely he couldn’t just be going to leave his horse standing there? Her question was answered when an armed brave came out of some nearby scrub and led the horse away. Sighing with disappointment, Faith admitted to herself that it would have been too easy if the vamp didn’t have some humans to guard him through the day.

Dismounting, Faith took her rifle from its holder, tied B’s reins to a bush and sat down to watch. One of the first lessons Albert had taught her was not to rush into a situation. As he’s explained the importance of watching and waiting, Faith had realised that her usual method of rushing in and taking on whatever the bad guys could throw at her was stupid. It could get her killed. Once upon a time she’d not cared whether she’d lived or died, she’d had nothing and no one to live for so what did she care? But now she cared; now she had someone who genuinely cared about her and that she cared about in turn. Nowadays she sat and watched, she had something to live for now so she intended to live as long as possible.

0=0=0=0

The sun was well above the horizon as Faith took out her watch, opening the cover and checked the time; snapping it shut again she put it back into her pocket. Jumping to her feet, she rolled her shoulders to free her arms of any kinks that might have developed while she had been sitting so quietly. Stamping the life back into her legs, she checked her rifle, revolver, knife, stake and ammunition. Deciding there was no time like the present she started to trot towards where she’d worked out the Indian guards were resting. She’d deal with them first before dusting the vamp in his lair.

0=0=0=0


	11. Chapter 11

11.

Her feet crunching on the gravely ground, Faith zigzagged between the sage bushes. Firing from the hip she brought down the first Indian guard as he changed position to get a better shot at her. Working the lever on her rifle she trotted on deeper into the patch of scrub where the Indians were hold up and closer to the cliff that held the vampire’s lair.

Trotting out into an area devoid of cover, Faith could feel the Indians drawing a bead on her. At the last moment she stopped suddenly, dived and rolled to one side just as the Indians fired. Continuing her roll, Faith came to her feet and fired at the puffs of smoke that gave away the guard’s positions. Three braves tumbled from their hiding places as two others made their escape through the bush.

Starting off running, Faith ran around the course the surviving Indians were taking, coming out near where the natives had hidden their horses. Having guessed that the Indians would try to bug-out, Faith had used her slayer speed to get round athe fleeing braves and get in front of them and cut them off from their horses.

Looks of confusion and fear crossed the remaining brave’s faces as they came out of the bushes. They skidded to a halt when they saw Faith nonchalantly standing between them and supposed safety. The first Indian started to raise his rifle to his shoulder, again Faith fired from the hip, her own rifle’s bullet entering the brave’s left eye and blowing out the back of his head. The second Indian screamed incoherently as he tried to turn and run back into the bush.

Turning slightly, Faith brought her rifle up to her shoulder and fired, hardly even bothering to aim. Her bullet caught the last brave in the small of the back, he cried out as he staggered forward a couple of more paces before finally collapsing into the dust. The man groaned as he tried to crawl away from the frightening white-woman who’d killed all his comrades.

Shaking her head in anger at herself, Faith walked over to where the Indian dragged himself towards the bushes and the illusion of safety. Again Faith worked the lever of her rifle loading a fresh round into the breach. Looking at the mortally wounded Indian, Faith again cursed at herself; she’d had plenty of time to aim and shoot, a good one or two seconds, this was like an eternity to a slayer. Instead of blowing the poor saps head off she’d let her aim drop and only crippled him.

“Sorry, man,” Faith said softly as she pointed her rifle at the brave’s head.

With a moan he turned his head to look up at her, Faith saw the hate and defiance burning in his eyes as her rifle pointed unwaveringly at his forehead.

“Ya didn’t stand a chance, man,” pulling the trigger Faith felt the rifle buck in her hand; almost sadly she looked down at the warrior. “Ya were just born in the wrong place in the wrong time, man…” Faith shrugged, “…sorry.”

Turning away from the Indian, Faith started to feed new rounds into her rifle as she walked through the bush to the foot of the cliff. Standing at the foot of the path leading up to Walks-by-Night’s lair, Faith stopped and pushed her hat onto the back of her head with the muzzle of her rifle.

The path in front of her wasn’t exactly wide, it lead steeply up to the mouth of the cave where the bloodsucker slept. Looking up at the sun, Faith saw it was well above the horizon and shinning brightly on the mouth of the cave. While the sunlight kept the vamp safely trapped in his cave, it also meant that if she went up there she’d be nicely silhouetted in the cave mouth; a perfect target for a pissed-off vampire with a rifle.

Sitting down on a handy boulder, Faith pulled a cheroot from her waistcoat, putting in her mouth; she lit it and blew out smoke into the desert air. Apart from teaching her not to rush into things, Albert had also taught his slayer to ‘get an edge’. While going hand-to-hand with a vampire might be exciting and fun for a slayer, Albert thought it put his charge at too greater risk. So, he’d drummed it into Faith that she should get as many factors in her favour before she committed herself to a fight.

The present situation was a case in point. Faith drew on her cheroot and weighed up the factors. The vamp was trapped in the cave; this was good, he wasn’t going anywhere. Against this was the fact that Faith would have to expose herself to the vampire as she entered the cave. If the vampire was awake, Faith looked around and thought of all the noise she’d made shooting the guards…the vamp would be awake.

The bloodsucker also had the advantage in that he could shoot Faith dead, while if she shot him it would only slow him down. Studying the glowing tip of her cheroot, Faith wondered if she could burn him out. Looking around she supposed she could drag a load of the tinder dry sage bushes up the path set them alight and throw them into the cave mouth. No, Faith shook her head, that all sounded like far too much like hard work.

Grinding out her cheroot with her boot heel, Faith sighed resignedly. There was nothing for it, she’d just have to go in there and drag the bastard out, kicking and screaming into the sunlight. Leaning her rifle against the boulder, she checked her Remington, her knife, her stake and the little Derringer she had concealed up her sleeve. Taking off her hat, Faith checked that her hair was securely tied back. Then, when all of her preparations were complete, he started up the path towards the cave.

As she got closer to the cave mouth, Faith noticed how cleverly it had been chosen. Glancing up at the sun again, she guessed that the sun never shone directly into the cave. It would however shine on the mouth giving away the position of anyone trying to sneak into the cave.

“Sneaky bastard,” Faith whispered as she flattened herself against the cliff wall.

So far there’d been no sign that the vampire was alert and waiting for her, Faith could, however, feel him in the cave just waiting for an opportunity to shoot and wound her before sucking her dry. Eyeing the edge of the cave mouth wryly, Faith smiled to herself; what was the betting that if she stuck her head around the corner she’d get it blown off?

That would really annoy Albert, Faith managed to stop herself giggling at the thought of and enraged Albert seeking revenge for her death. All amusement swiftly left her face as the thought entered her mind that he would actually do that and probably get himself killed in the process. That worried her more than she’d normally admit, she needed to be extra careful and keep herself and Albert alive.

Getting down on her stomach, Faith crawled forward and peeped warily around the corner of the cave. The vamp would be watching for her head at head height, with a little luck he wouldn’t notice her looking into the cave from down by the ground. Looking into the darkness of the cave, Faith was just in time to jerk her head back as a bullet ricocheted off the rock just above her head.

Scrambling to her feet, Faith pulled her revolver from its holster and fired blindly around the corner into the cave. Quickly replacing the spent rounds, she pulled the stake from her belt and held it in her left hand. Hopefully, when she went in there, fire from her pistol would keep the vamp confused and allow her to get close enough to stake him.

Realising she was as ready as she’d ever be, Faith took a deep breath and dived for the other side of the cave. Taken by surprise the vampire fired wildly at the shape that rolled across the cave mouth and bounced to its feet. The cave started to fill up with dirty white powder smoke as the two protagonists exchanged fire. 

Dodging from one side of the cave to the other, Faith never fired twice from the same position. Flopping down behind a large stone that jutted out of the sandy cave floor, she took the time to reload. The vampire had stopped firing too, perhaps he was reloading as well. So used to fighting with firearms had Faith become that she momentarily forgot that vampires didn’t need to reload, they didn’t need guns.

Looming over her coming out of the gunsmoke stood Walks-by-Night, he said something that Faith didn’t think was too complementary about her and slayers in general and then leaped at her. Rolling to one side, Faith fired. Hearing the vampire grunt she fired again as she jumped to her feet. Suddenly she found herself alone in smoke and the darkness. Ignoring what her eyes told her, Faith concentrated on trying to sense the vampire. He was still out there creeping towards her ready to pounce.

Feeling the red hot rage of the bloodsucker, Faith stepped out of the way of his next attack with insolent ease. Using her pistol as a club she struck him across the back of the head sending him crashing into the wall of the cave. Again the vampire grunted as his face smashed into the solid stone wall. But vampires don’t worry about pain, he turned and with a yell went for Faith his claw like fingers reaching for her eyes.

Realising that it was pointless shooting the bloodsucker again, Faith dropped her Remington into the dust and met the vampire’s charge with a well placed boot to his crutch. The vampire stopped like he’d run into a wall and wrapped his hands protectively around his family jewels. Grinning to herself, Faith punched him in the face sending him staggering back into the wall.

Pressing her advantage, Faith kicked his legs out from under him, she was just moving in for the kill when she found herself falling to the ground as her own legs were knocked out from under her. The bloodsucker rolled on top of her, raised his fist and hit her several times in succession in the face. Struggling under the Indian’s attack Faith’s hand closed around the hilt of her knife, quickly she drew it and slashed at Walks-by-Night’s leg.

Blood spurted from the wound as the vampire howled in pain. Faith pushed the vampire off her and swung her leg around and kicked him in the side of the head. Undaunted the bloodsucker staggered to his feet and met Faith’s next attack with a punch that sent the lighter slayer flying across the cave. Hitting the back of her head against the cave wall Faith cried out as she saw stars and bluebirds orbiting her head.

Shaking her head trying to clear it of the bells ringing in her ears and the shapes that flashed before her eyes, Faith looked up to see Walks-by-Night standing over her laughing. With a look of panic in her eyes, Faith searched for an escape route, there was none. The vampire was less than three feet way from her, he was just reaching down to drag her to her feet and no doubt continue the beating that would end in her death.

Straightening her right arm, Faith felt the little Derringer spring forward into her hand. Grinning widely at the vampire’s confident look, she pulled back the hammer of the little pistol and shot Walks-by-Night in both kneecaps. The big .45 calibre slugs smashed both the Indian’s knees to red ruin, screaming in pain and surprise he fell to the ground and rolled from side to side as he clutched at his ruined knees.

With impudent slowness, Faith tucked the little pistol back into it hiding place before picking up her stake from where it had fallen. Then getting to her own prefect knees, Faith knelt over the bloodsucker and raised her stake. The vampire aimed a weak punch at Faith’s chin which she easily dodged just before she plunged the stake into the monster’s heart.

Giving a soft sigh, Walks-by-Night exploded in a cloud of ash that settled gently on the cave floor. Groaning with relief, Faith sat down and rubbed her jaw, using the cave wall to help her, she climbed to her feet and eased her aches and pains. After a moment or two she decided that she’d received nothing worse than minor cuts and bruises plus a lump on the back of her head that felt the size of a chicken’s egg; it was nothing that would slow her down, well, not much.

Moving around the cave, Faith picked up her discarded weapons and searched for anything that Albert might find useful. Picking up an intricately beaded belt and a couple of evil smelling leather pouches which she thought might be magic related, Faith gathered up Walks-by-Night’s rifle and headed on out into the sunlight. Feeling the warm sun on her skin again Faith felt glad to be alive. As she walked down the path leading to the desert floor she started to whistle a dance hall tune. Continuing to whistle to herself, sometimes even bursting into song, Faith collected up the dead Indian’s horses and rifles, the bodies she left for the buzzards.

By the time she’d collected B from the bush where she’d left her and organised the Indian ponies into a line tied together by their reins, Faith felt pretty good and pleased with herself. After reloading and checking all her personal weapons she swung up into her saddle and clicked her tongue. Obediently B turned away from the cliff and started walking back the way they’d come the previous day.

As she rode along leading the seven ponies behind her Faith felt that all was well with the world. She’d dusted the vampire Indian which meant they only had the Red-Shirt guy to deal with, Faith had every confidence that Albert would work out a way of dealing with the fact that Red-Shirt appeared to be indestructible. Yes, all things considered this mission was going pretty well.

“Y’know, B,” Faith told her horse, “I’m just too good!”

B nodded her head as if in agreement with her mistress’s opinion of herself.

0=0=0=0


	12. Chapter 12

12.

Reining in his horse, Captain Brittles looked down at the Red River that snaked through the valley below him. The sides of the valley were steep and rough, it would be difficult to find a path down, but find one he must. His rearguard had reported signs of hostiles in pursuit; normally he’d turn and fight but he had the women to think of and he didn’t want to risk their safety.

“Pass the word,” Brittles turned to his bugler, “officers and sergeants forward.”

Moments later, Mr Cohill, Mr Penell, Sergeant Quincannon and several other sergeants pushed their way forward to the head of the column and gathered around Captain Brittles.

“Sergeant Tyree,” Brittles sort the man out in the crowd.

“Sir!” Tyree urged his horse forward.

“Find me a trail down to the river,” Brittles ordered.

“Sir!” Tyree kicked his horse into a gallop and headed off towards the river.

“Gentlemen,” Brittles started to explain his intended course of action, “We’ll leave a rearguard under one officer. Mr Cohill you will be in command, take two squads and cover our crossing and deny the hostiles the use of this ford.”

Nodding in acknowledgement Mr Cohill turned towards the waiting troopers.

“First Squad, Second Squad,” Cohill called only to be interrupted by Brittles.

“Second Squad has too many old, married men in it,” Brittles pointed out.

“First Squad, Fifth Squad,” Cohill corrected himself, “Wheel out and follow in line!”

“Mr Penell,” Brittles turned to the younger officer, “take the troop across the river while I check the defence positions. One pack animal to the rear!”

Moving to one side, Brittles watched as Mr Penell lead what remained of the troop forward down towards the river. Looking around to see if anyone was left behind he saw the Dandridge girl and Major Cardwell sitting their horses to one side of the trail. Shrugging his shoulders, Captain Brittles turned his horse’s head away from the main part of the troop and headed after the small force that was being left behind as rearguard.

0=0=0=0

“Miss Dandridge,” Albert turned to the young woman beside him, “if you wish to say your farewells to Mr Cohill, I think now would be a good time.”

Nodding and giving Albert a small, sad smile, Olivia Dandridge turned her horse and followed in the direction Flint Cohill had taken leaving Albert to his own thoughts. Looking back up the trail, Albert willed Faith to appear, but she didn’t. Knowing he was being foolish worrying about his slayer; either she’d won or she hadn’t. If she’d won she’d ride into camp with some tale to tell him of how she’d staked the vampire. If she’d lost she wouldn’t and no wishful thinking on his part would change that.

However, that didn’t stop him from worrying; once more thoughts of retiring and taking Faith away from all this fighting and killing went through his mind. But, what if Faith didn’t want to leave? She certainly acted as if she enjoyed being a slayer; reading between the lines, Albert sensed that Faith enjoyed being a slayer in this time more than she did in her own.

“Major Cardwell?”

The sound of Captain Brittles’ voice made Albert turn to see the cavalry officer sit his horse right beside him; he’d been so deep in thought that he’d not noticed him ride up.

“Sorry,” Albert smiled guiltily, “I didn’t see you there…wool gathering, don’t-cha-know?”

“Indeed,” Brittles nodded in understanding, “Miss Lehane seems a very capable young woman, I’m sure she’ll be back safe and sound.” Brittles paused as he too looked down the track. “In the meantime I wonder if you’d care to look over the defences…any suggestions you could make would be helpful.”

“Thank-you,” Albert nodded thanks to what Brittles was trying to do, “but I’m sure you know your business.”

“All the same,” Brittles encouraged.

“Well,” Albert started his horse forward, “if you insist.”

0=0=0=0

Casting his eye over the defence positions, Albert saw no obvious alterations that he could suggest. The trenches the troopers were digging would cover the trail with a cross fire that the Indians would find difficult to pass through. Of course if the troopers had been issued with the new Krag magazine carbines the Indians would find it impossible to cross the clear ground in front of the trenches.

“I say,” Albert glanced over to where Brittles was talking to Cohill, “there is one thing.” Albert pointed to a low bluff that overlooked the position, “That bluff, couldn’t the hostiles take position there and snipe at your men.”

“Indeed they could,” Brittles agreed, “and I expect they will. But…”

“But?” Albert encouraged the officer to continue.

“It can’t be helped,” Brittles rode over and explained, “closer to the river there’s heights on both sides of the track and further out the ground’s too open and the rearguard would easily be outflanked.”

“I see,” Albert nodded his agreement as he looked around; Brittles was right, this did appear the best position around.

“Of course,” Brittles continued with a slight grin, “our men will be in trenches and the Indians are terrible shots.”

Nodding his head, Albert silently agreed. On the Northwest Frontier, fighting was about sneaking through the rocks on steep mountainsides trying to get into a position where you could shoot down on the tribesmen. Here it was more like South Africa where Albert had never commanded troops.

“I bow to your superior knowledge of your enemies, Captain,” Albert glanced around one last time. “My only advice is to ensure you have plenty of ammunition and water.”

“Agreed,” Brittles nodded and turned to shout over to Mr Cohill. “Mr Cohill! Don’t forget to check the men’s canteens.” He looked once more at Albert before saying, “She’ll be back I’m sure, Major.”

“I expect you’re right,” sighed Albert, “but that doesn’t stop a chap from worrying.”

0=0=0=0

Firing over her shoulder, Faith smiled as she saw an Indian fall from his horse; she’d picked up the little party of Indians as she’d passed through an area of thick scrub. They’d come on her so suddenly and so close by that she’d had to let the captured horses go. Hoping that the Indians would go after the horses and not her, Faith had been disappointed when the Indians had come after her with a single minded determination that had surprised her.

As she galloped along with the Indians hard on her tail, Faith realised that sooner or later they’d catch up with her. The Indian horses were probably fresher than B and it was only a matter of time before they overhauled her. It was time to do something different. Transferring her revolver to her left hand and drawing her rifle with her right, Faith guided B along using the pressure of her knees. Swinging her Winchester around just like she’d seen the old Marshal do in ‘True Grit’, Faith brought B to a sudden halt.

Turning her horse, Faith charged at the now rather surprised Indians. They had supposed that it was only a matter of time before they caught and killed their prey. Finding there was still fight in their victim the Indians were taken aback and came to a confused halt just as Faith closed with them.

Firing with both her pistol and rifle, Faith saw two Indians fall from their horses as the others milled around in confusion. Ducking as a wildly fired rifle bullet cracked above her head, she fired again bring down another Indian. With a third of their force killed in as many heartbeats the remaining Indians turned tail and fled. Bringing B to a halt Faith emptied her revolver into the retreating Indians’ backs before casting it aside and firing steadily with her rifle as B stood obediently still under her.

Watching the last two or three surviving hostiles gallop off in a cloud of dust, Faith jumped from her horse to retrieve her pistol. Climbing back into the saddle, she let B pick her own way along the trail as she reloaded her weapons. What Albert had told her was true; turning on a pursuing enemy unexpectedly can throw them into a panic making it easier for a retreating force to turn the tables on their pursuers. Giving silent thanks that she’d listened to her watcher, Faith rode on hoping she’d find Albert and the cavalry before she was reduced to using her fists and her brand new knife.

0=0=0=0

Popping up from the trench, Albert fired at an Indian who was trying to crawl towards his position. The hostile disappeared in a cloud of white powder smoke, by the time it had cleared the Indian had gone and Albert had no idea if he’d hit him or not. The hostiles had arrived about half an hour earlier; they’d tried to rush the position on horse back but had been driven off by the defenders. Once again Albert wished these were British troops because then they’d have magazine rifles. A minute’s worth of magazine fire would send the surviving hostiles running for the hills. He silently cursed the US War Department for not issuing its troops with modern weapons more quickly.

As it was they’d have to make do with what they’d got. The Indians having been thrown back once had dismounted and started to work their way forward taking cover in the bushes and scrub that lay about seventy-five yards away from the cavalry trenches. It wouldn’t be long before there’d be Indians firing from the bluffs about two hundred yards distant to the right.

Sitting in the bottom of his piece of trench, Albert slipped fresh rounds into his rifle. Just as he was thinking that he might do well to take up one of the cavalry Springfield’s and save his Henry rifle for when the Indians next tried to rush them; he heard an increase in firing from the direction of the Indian’s lines.

0=0=0=0

Once again, Faith found herself with her pistol in one hand and rifle in the other as she galloped through the Indian’s positions. Once again, the hostiles had been taken by surprise having been attacked from the rear. Shooting down Indians whenever they turned to fire at her Faith ducked as low as she could and fired with deadly precision at her foes.

Having heard firing in the distance, Faith had changed course and ridden towards the sound of the guns. Coming upon the Indian horse lines a little unexpectedly, she’d quickly decided that the cavalry must be close by; Faith had drawn her weapons and charged through the Indian lines towards where she hoped her watcher would be.

0=0=0=0

Peering over the lip of his trench, Albert screwed up his eyes and wished he’d brought his binoculars with him. The sounds of firing were getting louder and more intense, but fewer rounds seemed to be heading in his direction. Staring towards the Indian’s lines, Albert saw a rider appear out of the scrub and gallop as if chased by Satan himself towards the cavalry’s trenches. At first he thought that the Indians were trying to rush them again, but then he saw his slayer’s distinctive hair fall free as she lost her hat. Luckily someone with younger eyes than his own had noticed that Faith wasn’t the beginnings of another Indian attack and had called for the troopers to give her covering fire.

0=0=0=0

Crouched as low as she could over B’s neck, Faith urged her horse on, Both her rifle and pistol were empty now, but she could easily make out the smoke from the trooper's rifles just ahead of her. With more than a little relief she heard a familiar voice call her name.

“FAITH!”

Forgetting where she was for a moment, Faith sat up in her saddle to try to locate the source of the voice. As she looked around she grunted as she felt something like a mule kicking her in the back. Her hands went numb as she reins fell from fingers that wouldn’t obey her commands. Feeling herself slip from her saddle Faith saw the sandy earth rush up to meet her.

0=0=0=0

“OH MY GOD! FAITH!” Albert scrambled from his trench and crawled towards his slayer as bullets sent little spurts of sand into the air.

Galloping on for a moment, B realised that her rider wasn’t on her back anymore. Coming to a halt she turned and trotted back to where her mistress lay on the ground just as she’d been trained to do. Cradling Faith’s body in his arms, Albert was relieved to see her eyes flutter open and focus on him.

“What hit me?” Faith groaned as she tried to push herself upright.

“Wait,” Albert ordered heedless of the bullets that buzzed like angry bees all around them, “let me see.”

Feeling Albert’s hands roam over her back trying to find her wound, Faith looked up to see her horse looking down at her.

“Get outta here ya stupid animal,” she waved the horse away with an arm that felt like it weighed a ton.

“There’s no blood!” Albert pulled up the back of Faith shirt and undershirt to see an enormous bruise developing just to the left of her spine.

“Hey!” Faith turned her head to try and look at her watcher, “If ya wanted to get my shirt off ya just should’a said,” just for a moment she rested her cheek against Albert’s shoulder, “Ya a good guy Albert but I don’t think this is the time or the place, y’know?”

Suddenly realising that they were providing target practice for the hostiles, Albert pulled Faith towards the trench. They tumbled into the bottom of the hole in a tangle of arms and legs.

“You must have been hit by a spent round,” Albert informed Faith as they disentangled themselves from each other, “it didn’t even break the skin.”

“Felt like a freakin’ mule kicked me,” Faith worked her shoulders as the feeling slowly returned to her arms, “and everything went numb.”

“That’s because it hit near your spine,” Albert watched Faith carefully as she slowly recovered; “it probably mucked up your nervous system for a moment.”

“Mucked up?” Faith looked at her watcher and smiled.

“Well, yes,” Albert admitted guiltily, “I could have used more eloquent words but I doubted that you’d understand them in the circumstances what with the fall and all that.”

“Thanks,” Faith grinned, “and thanks for coming out to get me.”

“No bother, old thing,” Albert smiled slightly embarrassed, “never be able to show my face in the old watcher’s club if I let anything happen to you.”

“You know I meant what I said,” Faith looked across the trench into her watcher’s eyes.

“What was that, old thing?” Albert started to feel uncomfortable and began to think this hole was slightly too small.

“Y’know when I said you only had to ask,” Faith watched Albert squirm a little before she started to move towards him, “there’s no need for ya to visit those cat houses, y’know what I mean?”

“I say old…!” Albert’s exclamation was cut off in mid sentence as Faith’s lips met his own and all rational thought fled from his mind.

The kiss seemed to go on for a very long time but was probably only a few seconds, eventually it ended and Albert started to notice things like; the battle going on outside the little world of their hole and the way his rifle poked painfully into the small of his back. As soon as his wits had fully recovered, Albert started to wonder how he’d let this happen. Faith was his slayer and little more than a girl; she must have hit her head when she fell; that was it, he told himself and felt momentarily better.

0=0=0=0


	13. Chapter 13

13.

Looking back across the Red River, Albert felt a slight twinge of guilt at leaving the battle unfinished. In the distance he could still hear the firing continue as the cavalry battled to prevent the hostiles from crossing the ford. He told himself that he had nothing to do with the battle; his duty was to his slayer and the mission, so why had he felt so guilty when Mr Cohill had told him to take Faith out of danger?

The young officer had obviously thought that Faith’s injuries were worse than they were and insisted that Faith and himself should go to the rear and then on to Fort Stark. In reality Faith’s ‘injuries’ were nothing worse than a rather nasty bruise on her back some other scrapes, cuts and a very minor concussion that would probably give her a headache until she had time to sleep it off. By tomorrow she’d be as right as rain and raring to go; which was just as well as they still needed to track down the Indian known as Red Shirt.

“Albert?” Faith sounded uncharacteristically unsure of herself.

“What’s up, old thing?” Albert turned in his saddle to face his companion.

They rode side by side, more than a little travel stained, Faith had lost her hat and they were both still damp from crossing the river. The horses, particularly Faith’s ‘B’ were tired and in need of a good rest and feed, but they still had a ways to go; Albert didn’t think they’d reach Stark until late afternoon or early evening.

“Albert…” whatever it was that Faith wanted to say she was finding it difficult to get the words out, “...it’s nothing,” she said after a short pause and before lapsing into silence again. Before saying, “Hey!” she twisted 'round so she could get at her saddle bags, “I found these in the vamp’s cave,” she handed Albert the two leather bags she’d found and the beaded belt, “are they important?”

“Let me see,” Albert took the objects from Faith’s hand, he found his fingers lingering as they brushed against her skin. “Hmm,” he said as he examined the objects, he handed the belt back to Faith, “apart from being fairly attractive in a primitive sort of way, the belt has no significance; you might as well keep it as a keepsake if you want. Now these…”

Opening the bags, Albert looked inside and winced at the smell.

“These, my dear young lady,” Albert glanced over at Faith to see her watching him intently, “are Medicine Bags.”

“Huh?” Faith gave Albert a disbelieving look.

“They’re like a spell,” Albert explained, “maybe this was how Walks-by-Night controlled the natives and got them to follow him.”

“So what do we do,” Faith asked, “how do we break the spell?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Albert upended the bags and scattered the contents along the trail, “there,” he smiled, “spell broken.”

“Just like that?” Faith looked back at the scattering of leaves, animal parts and general bric-a-brac that had been in the bag. “I thought ya’d have to do one of them ceremony things to break it.”

“‘One of those’,” Albert corrected before adding, “scattering the contents usually does the trick.”

The two riders lapsed into silence as their horses slowly covered the distance to Fort Stark. Albert needed to bring up the subject of Faith kissing him and more importantly him kissing her back. Left unresolved things like that could fester and spoil a relationship, he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Faith because they worked so well together and…and… Well, he had to admit it, if not to the world but at least to himself, he did care for the girl…more than maybe a watcher should care for his slayer. He turned to face Faith once more.

“Faith…” he began but was cut off before he could get properly started.

“Albert!” Faith looked so terrified Albert thought some awful creature was about to attack them; he looked around saw nothing then turned back to Faith. “The kiss…” Faith began again; this time it was Albert’s turn to interrupt.

“No need to worry, my dear,” Albert replied like an understanding father forgiving a wayward daughter, “I understand.”

“You do?” Faith sounded a little surprised.

“Of course,” Albert glanced along the track; it was easier to say what he wanted to say if he wasn’t actually looking at Faith. “It was just the emotion of the moment. You’d had a scrape with death and you were relieved to be back with your old watcher. Perfectly understandable under the circumstances.”

“No,” Faith replied.

“No?” Albert turned to look at Faith once more.

“Look,” Faith looked down at the track trying to work out the right way of saying what she felt, “look, Albert I meant it.”

“You meant what, old thing?” Albert asked slowly as his heart began to beat so loudly that he was sure Faith could hear it.

“The kiss, asshole!” Faith almost screamed.

“I say no need to…” once again Albert was interrupted.

“Don’t ya get it?” Faith demanded, “I love ya! I think I’ve always loved ya from the day we met.” Faith took a steadying breath before continuing in a slightly less strident tone, “You’ve been like a really cool dad to me…which is kinda sick coz all I wanna do now is screw ya brains out.”

“Oh!” was all Albert could think to say.

“Yeah,” Faith said uncertainly, “that’s how I feel, y’know? I know ya probably want to marry some lady or something an’ I’m acting like some kinda crazy whore-slut, but…”

“No Faith,” Albert replied gently, “you’re not a ‘crazy whore-slut’, you’re really…” Albert shut up not really sure what Faith really was. “Look Faith, you’re a very beautiful young woman with a warm heart, when you let yourself show it. You don’t really want me, I’m far too old for you, you need a younger man to…”

“No way!” Faith objected, “Those jerks!” Faith jerked her thumb over her shoulder back towards the ford. “Yeah, okay, use ‘em and lose ‘em, but no way would I want to stay with any one of ‘em…” Faith’s voice slowly petered out as she realised what she must sound like to Albert…she must sound like one of the whores in the cat houses he occasionally visited, “Crap!” she cursed realising she’d screwed things up yet again.

“Look Faith…” Albert started to speak but was again interrupted.

“It’s okay, man,” Faith forced a smile, “I understand, ya don’t think of me like that, maybe…”

“Oh do shut-up woman!” Albert snapped, “And let me speak!”

Faith stared at her companion in surprise, Albert had never yelled at her before.

“Look, Faith,” Albert started again, “just lately I’ve been thinking about retiring, this watcher’s game is really a younger man’s job.”

Faith’s face fell at the thought of losing her watcher and friend.

“But,” Albert took a deep breath, “the one thing that stopped me was the thought of what would happen to you. I couldn’t just hand you over like some object to another watcher.” Albert removed his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, “I always thought I’d take you with me wherever I decided to go, I just wasn’t sure that you’d want to come with me.”

“I’d always come with ya,” Faith reassured him and then smiled at the double meaning of what she’d just said, “anywhere you want, man.”

“Yes well that’s all jolly nice,” Albert shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, “and now I know how you feel, it sort of makes things easier…”

“Easier how?” Faith asked suspiciously.

“Look, Faith my dear,” Albert said slowly, “you know how things are in the here and now? In your own time I expect things like this happen all the time and people just go off and live together, all that ‘free love’ and what not…”

“What're ya talking about?” Faith frowned as she rested her arm on the horn of her saddle.

“Look,” Albert sounded very serious now, “this will only work if you’re Mrs Cardwell, it wouldn’t be fair on you otherwise.”

“What?” Faith sat up again, “Pretend to be ya wife?” Pausing for a moment Faith thought about this, “Yeah, okay, I could do that.”

“NO!” Albert pulled off his hat and nearly threw it to the ground in frustration.

“Hey!” Faith smiled, “Stop shouting will ya? If this is how you’re gonna carry on while we’re living together I might just change my mind.”

“No!” Albert said in a more normal tone, “I meant if you actually _were_ Mrs Cardwell.”

“Your mother?” Faith frowned, “You’re weird man.”

“Are you being deliberately stupid?” Albert wanted to know, “I mean I want you to marry me!”

“What?” Faith looked at Albert as if he’d suggested they fly to the moon on the backs of ducks or something, “Like, official, inna church an’ everything?”

“At last!” Albert looked heavenwards and muttered something under his breath. “Yes, properly married in a church by the Archbishop of Canterbury if you want.”

“Yeah,” Faith guided B over as close to Albert’s horse as possible she reached out and put her arm around Albert’s shoulder, “okay, but ya needn’t bother about the Canterbury guy, town minister’ll do.”

Pulling her fiancé close Faith kissed him as they rode along together. As they kissed, Faith’s sensitive slayer hearing picked up the sound of a horse galloping towards them. While one part of her mind concentrated on kissing her watcher, another part noted that the horse was an unshod Indian pony. This part of her mind; that wasn’t fully concentrating on the important business of kissing her soon to be husband, also worked out speed, range and direction of the approaching horseman.

As the interloper reached the optimum location for a successful interception, Faith hauled her Remington from its holster. Her thumb pulled back the hammer and without looking she pointed, fired and shot the Indian from the back of his horse. Pulling himself away from Faith’s embrace for a moment, Albert looked down at the dead Indian.

“I say, old thing,” Albert said admiringly, “dashed good shot and all that. I can see I won’t be leaving you at the altar.”

“No ya won’t,” Faith agreed as she looked down at the red shirted brave, “but it won’t be coz ya think I’ll shoot ya…hey! Isn’t that Red Shirt?”

Once again Faith was the slayer, she let go of Albert and turned B so she was facing the body. Waiting for the Indian to climb back to his feet again, she pulled back the hammer of her pistol; she might not be able to kill him but she could sure slow him down. Waiting for the Indian to do something, Faith was surprised by his complete lack of movement.

“Ya think he’s playin’ dead?” she asked quietly.

“You know, old thing,” Albert glanced at his slayer, “I think he really is dead.”

“But…?” Faith turned a puzzled frown on her watcher.

“Of course!” Albert smiled and slapped his forehead, “How stupid of me, the medicine bags!”

“Medicine bags?” Faith asked wanting clarification.

“Those medicine bags must have held the spell that made old Red Shirt here,” he gestured at the dead Indian, “indestructible…well that’s alright then.”

“What’s alright,” Faith replaced her revolver in its holster.

“Its like the old saying goes,” Albert smiled as he turned away from the body.

“What old saying?” Faith turned B to follow Albert.

“That the only good Indian is a dead Indian,” Albert chuckled quietly, “while I don’t normally subscribe to these blanket statements in this case I think it fits the bill.”

“What bill?” Faith demanded, “There’s a bill? I really wish you’d speak English, man.”

“I really thought I was, old thing.”

0=0=0=0

Relaxing in a tub of warm water, Faith sighed and felt all her aches and pains start to disappear. It had been raining when Albert and herself had arrived back at Fort Stark only an hour behind Captain Brittles and the main part of the column. After looking after their horses Albert and Faith had walked wearily back to their own rooms.

Walking into the little room, Faith found that that someone had lit the stove and moved a tin bath into the room. Only moments after shutting her door there was a knock, opening up to see who it was, Faith found several soldiers with buckets of hot water, compliments of Mrs Allshard.

After a good soak, Faith felt almost superhuman again, she climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself. Leaving wet footprints on the floor she walked over to where the mirror hung from the wall, she looked at her reflection and tried to see herself as Mrs Faith Cardwell. No, she just couldn’t see it, perhaps after a little time she’d get used to it…whatever.

Turning away from the mirror she dried herself off and brushed her hair dry in front of the stove. Deciding she was clean and dry enough, Faith looked around for something to wear, just as she was reaching for her least dirty pair of jeans, her eyes fell on the skirt and blouse hanging on the hooks by the door to her little bathroom. She walked over and took them down, another gift from Mrs Allshard she wondered.

Slowly a smile spread across Faith’s face as a plan formed in her mind. Casting aside her towel, Faith pulled on the skirt and blouse. Not bothering with underwear, she didn’t intend keeping the skirt and blouse on for very long, she quickly fastened up all the little buttons. Looking at herself in the mirror again she cursed the lack of cosmetics; sighing she decided that the natural look would have to do, however she tidied up her hair in an effort to look presentable. Lastly there was the problem of shoes, like she didn’t have any and boots would look stupid.

“Okay,” Faith shrugged at her reflection, “bare feet then.”

Turning towards the door, Faith padded silently across the floor, she listened at the door. Satisfied there was no one waiting outside she pulled open the door, stepped outside and closed the door quietly behind her. Not wishing to hang around in the cold night air, she walked swiftly along the veranda until she was standing outside Albert’s door. Raising her hand to knock she hesitated. After unbuttoning a few buttons and pulling open the neck of her blouse Faith knocked. A moment later she heard Albert’s footsteps as he came to the door, she heard him pull the bolt and watched as the door slowly opened.

Albert stood before her, his hair was still wet and his shirt was open and just for a moment it was obvious he didn’t recognise the young woman standing outside his room.

“Faith?” he asked.

“Who else were you expecting?” Faith wanted to know.

“W-well…” Albert stuttered a little.

“What does a girl have to do to get asked in?” Faith placed her hand on Albert’s shoulder and pushed him back into his room.

“I say, Faith,” Albert said as the door slowly closed behind her, “steady on old…”

0=0=0=0


	14. Chapter 14

14.

Being careful not to wake Albert, Faith slid out of bed, collected up her clothes and headed for the door. Pausing she dressed quickly before silently opening the door and heading back to her own room. Once back in her own room, she discarded the skirt and blouse and started to dress in her more normal attire.

Sitting on the end of her bed, Faith smiled to herself; it seemed that for once in her life, trusting someone enough for her to actually admit that she loved them hadn’t blown up in her face. Much to her surprise, Albert had turned out to be a vigorous and inventive lover. Faith’s smile got wider at the memory, perhaps he’d picked up stuff from all those erotic poems (with illustrations) he’d read; or maybe it was because she’d not had sex for nearly three years!

Finding herself dressed, Faith stood up, buckled on her gun belt and headed out the door. Walking down the stairs to the yard outside the Headquarters building, she turned towards the saloon. The post was a hive of activity; Faith checked her watch to find it was obscenely early in the morning. Looking across the parade square she saw the troopers lining up on horse back. No doubt they’d be going out to relieve the rearguard at the ford before long.

Stopping to watch for a moment, Faith found herself feeling she’d left work undone and that Albert and herself should be riding with the troopers to see the job finished and bring the men at the ford home. Sighing heavily she shook her head, her work here was done; she’d dusted the vamp, shot and killed the indestructible Indian and as a bonus broken a love spell. Not a bad few day’s work. Turning away from the parade, Faith trotted up the steps in front of the saloon, pushed open the door and went inside.

The saloon was much as she remembered it from her last visit; the same smells of stale beer and tobacco with just a hint of open sewers in the background. The old guy was still behind the bar almost as if he’d not moved since her last time here. Walking up to the bar, Faith searched in the pocket of her waistcoat for some coins.

“Mornin’ Marshal,” the barkeep said from behind his out of date newspaper.

“Hi, barkeep,” Faith leant against the bar, “can a girl get breakfast here?”

“Sure,” the barkeep put down his paper and looked at Faith, “we’ve got ham, eggs, grits, coffee, nothing fancy y’mind.”

Grits? Faith wondered what the hell ‘grits’ were.

“Sounds fine,” Faith turned away from the bar and headed towards a table as the barkeep scurried off to the mysterious world of ‘out back’.

0=0=0=0

Half way through her breakfast, Faith was disturbed by the sound of the saloon doors bursting open. Looking up she saw Sergeant Quincannon stride into the room dressed in a light grey tweed suit that was slightly too small for him.

“How do I look, Connolly?” he laughed as he banged his walking stick on the bar; Faith raised and eyebrow, so, that’s what the barkeeps name was.

“What’ll you have?” Connolly asked with an answering grin.

“A little drop of whisky – Irish – and I’ll pour it m’self,” Quincannon replied in high good humour.

Shrugging, Faith poured herself more coffee and went back to eating her breakfast.

“And…” Quincannon threw some money on the counter top, “...and when I’ve drunk that up, just throw me out.”

Just as Quincannon and Connelly were raising a glass to each others good health (Faith pulled a face at this, even with her slayer metabolism she felt ill at the idea of drinking whisky for breakfast) six more soldiers marched into the bar. Jeez, Faith shook her head and put down her knife and fork for a moment, was everyone on the post an early morning drinker?

“You’re under arrest, Quincannon,” announced the lead soldier as he came to a halt in front of the Irishman.

Picking up her utensils once again Faith got on with finishing her breakfast, so, she thought, this could be interesting.

“By who’s orders?” demanded Quincannon.

“By order of Captain Brittles,” replied the soldier at the head of the group, “are you coming peaceably?

“Laddie,” Quincannon reached out and put a fatherly hand on the lead soldier’s shoulder, “I’ve never gone any place ‘peaceably’ in me life.”

Unseen by anyone other than Faith, Quincannon carefully put down his drink, turned slightly and punched the soldier who’d been doing all the talking on the chin. He spun away across the room to land on a table knocking it over and sending a few chairs flying as well. Great! Thought Faith, entertainment; watching the fight develop she soaked up egg yoke with a piece of bread.

Foolishly, the other soldiers in the group advanced to take on Quincannon individually and were easily beaten. Shaking her head in disgust, Faith sighed; if they rushed him all together they could have overwhelmed Quincannon and dragged him off to jail quite easily. Having rid himself of his attackers, Quincannon leant on the bar again and picked up his drink.

“Ach,” the Irishman grinned at the barkeep, “the old days are gone forever.”

The two men raised their glasses to each other just as the other soldiers got to their feet and launched another series of uncoordinated and ineffectual attacks. Shaking her head in disgust, Faith pushed her empty plate to one side, put a cheroot between her lips and lit it. Picking up her coffee cup, she leant back in her chair to watch how the fight developed; so far it seemed to be Quincannon two, US Army nil.

“Did you hear about the buffalo coming back?” Quincannon asked Connelly after he’d beaten off the attack.

“Buffalo?” Connelly snatched the bottle of whisky out of the way as the soldiers came in for a third time.

“Herds of ‘em,” Quincannon explained as he sent his attackers flying once more.

It was now, Quincannon three, US Army nil.

“Men!” Quincannon held up his arms as the soldiers came in for a forth time, “We want no unpleasantness. A toast first and the guard house after,” Connelly lined up glasses on the bar, “if ya able.”

Much to Faith’s surprise the soldiers lined up at the bar and drank a toast to Captain Brittles…just before Quincannon sent them all staggering across the room. Laughing, Faith watched as soldiers stumbled and fell to Quincannon’s fists. However, her laughter was brought to a premature end as one of the soldiers crashed into her table and sent it flying upsetting the coffee pot and her cup.

Hot coffee splashed onto Faith’s leg as she moved slightly to avoid the man and table. Slowly wiping at the small damp patch on her jeans, Faith looked up from under lowered brows, it was time for this fight to end. Slowly she stood up, pushing her hair away from her face, Faith made her way across the bar her spurs *tinging* ominously as they hit the floor boards. Coming up behind the big Irishman as he stood drinking at the bar, Faith reached up and tapped him on the shoulder. Quincannon turned and looked down at her.

“What can I do for you, dahlin?” Quincannon smiled down at her, “Why don’t you join me in a drink, then maybe you’d care to come for a little walk or somethin’.” 

Faith, being a newly engaged woman, didn’t like the way the big man had said ‘or something’ and winked at her.

“Too early,” Faith informed him, “like these losers said,” Faith gestured to the soldiers who were starting to pick themselves up off the floor, “are ya coming peaceful like?”

“Not while there’s still whisky in the jar, lassie,” Quincannon informed her; he turned back to the bar and picked up his glass.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to take you in,” Faith informed him.

Laughing, Quincannon turned and looked down at her again.

“Now,” he grinned, “just how are ya fixin’ to do that, then?”

“Like this!” Faith punched him in the stomach.

Bending over and spraying whisky from his mouth, Quincannon clutched at his belly just as Faith’s forearm hit him across the jaw. As he jerked upright for a moment, she grabbed hold of his legs, heaved and sent him flying over the bar to crash land on the floor. Vaulting easily across the bar, Faith pulled Quincannon to his feet, put him in an arm lock and marched him out of the bar. As she marched him down the steps outside the saloon she met Abby Allshard coming up them with the doctor in tow.

“What’s going on?” Mrs Allshard demanded.

“Drunk and resisting arrest, ma’am,” Faith replied letting go of the Irishman’s arm and pushing him upright.

“To the guardhouse, Quincannon!” Abby Allshard pointed in the general direction of the guardhouse, “Quick march! HUP!”

Looking up at the other soldiers who’d just stumbled from the saloon, Abby shook her head in disgust.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves?” She demanded, “Six of you and the Marshal here has to do your job!” Abby smiled at Faith, “Thank-you Marshal Lehane.”

“No problemo, ma’am,” Faith would have tipped her hat to the woman, but she hadn’t got one, so she didn’t.

Turning, Abby Allshard marched off briskly on the trail of Quincannon all the time pointing out his many and various personality faults. 

“What’s going on here, old thing?”

Faith turned to see Albert standing next to her and watching Mrs Allshard march Quincannon away.

“Nothing much,” Faith found herself moving so she was standing next to her watcher, her hand sort out his, “just some Marshal stuff y’know?”

“Time we were gone, my dear,” not letting go of Faith’s hand Albert started to walk towards the stable block, “I believe we have a church and a minister to find.”

“Yeah, why not?” Faith agreed with an eager grin.

0=0=0=0

As Albert and Faith were saddling their horses and discussing their plans for the near future they were interrupted by Captain Brittles as he walked slowly into the stable and over to his horse.

“Good morning, Captain,” Albert called slightly too cheerfully.

“Good morning, Major,” replied Brittles morosely; he started to saddle up.

Faith noticed that the Captain wasn’t wearing his uniform blouse; instead he wore a fringed buckskin jacket. Of course, she told herself, today was the day he retired.

“I say, old chap,” Albert walked from behind his horse and over to where Brittles stood, “why the long face? You’re leaving the army today, start of a new life and all that.”

“After forty years,” Brittles said slowly, “I’m leaving the Army a failure; I failed at Sudrow’s Wells. I failed to keep the rifles out of Indian hands. I failed at everything.”

“Now you know that’s not so,” Albert tried to reassure him, “no one could have done more than you did.”

“Blast it Major!” Brittles shouted making the horses start with surprise, “I left Flint Cohill and two squads back there at the ford.”

“And a sound tactical move it was too,” Albert placed his hand on Brittles’ shoulder, “Leftenant Cohill is a fine officer and Mr Pennell will have to learn how to cross a river under fire as we all did. You’ve nothing to blame yourself for.”

“I know,” Brittles looked up at Faith and Albert, “every time I think it through I know I couldn’t have done anything different but…”

“I know,” Albert said sympathetically, “it feels like you’re leaving a job half done. That’s how I felt when I left my men up on the North West Frontier of India, but we all have to move on to different things…so, where are you going to go?”

“Oh west,” sighed Brittles, “to California maybe.”

“Hmmm,” Albert turned to Faith and winked, “As I understand it you’re a free agent now.”

Brittles nodded his head slowly.

“No one to tell you what to do or where to go, is that right?” Albert continued.

“Like I say,” Brittles agreed, “first time in forty years.”

“Then no one could stop you if you went to California via, say the Snake River, hmm?” Albert smiled at Brittles smugly.

“Why, Major,” a little hope and purpose re-entered Brittles’ expression, “I never thought about that. No one could complain if I just happened by and gave advice.”

“As long as it is just advice,” Albert warned.

“Of course,” Brittles nodded in agreement. “Thank-you Major,” Brittles touched the brim of his battered old campaign hat to Albert before turning to Faith, “you look after this old soldier ma’am. Now if you’ll excuse me California awaits!”

0=0=0=0

They left Fort Stark together and rode along the trail a ways until Captain Brittles had to turn off the road and head for the Snake River…on his way to California. Watching him ride off into the distance, Albert shook his head sadly.

“I know just how he feels, Faith,” Albert admitted, “nothing to look forward to, nothing to live for.”

“Hey!” Faith leant over and grabbed his arm, “You got me, right?”

“Yes,” Albert agreed, “retirement has its compensations.”

They urged their horses back into motion.

“Now first things first,” Albert started to plan, “soon as we find a town I think we’ll have to get you some more lady-like clothes,” he glanced over at Faith, “You’re all right with that are you? I mean you can’t get married wearing trousers and a gun belt.”

“Not a problem,” Faith nodded, “but I’m telling you now, when they get to the part about me ‘obeying’ you, I’m crossing my fingers.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else, my love,” laughed Albert.

“As long as we understand each other,” Faith urged B ahead as she started to sing at the top of her voice. “ _Around her leg she wore a yellow garter, she wore it in the spring time and the merry month of may. When I asked her why she wore the garter, she said it’s for her lover who is in the cavalry!_ ”

Still singing they turned their horses into the west and rode off into the future.

_Ride the range all the day till the first fading light,  
be with my western girl round the fire, oh, so bright.  
I'd be the Indians friend, let them live to be free,  
ridin' into the sunset, I wish I could be._

0=0=0=0

'She Wore a Yellow Ribbon', highlight and right click to follow link...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NXepdbCSYV0

The End.


End file.
